


hp: 1

by neyrthli



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Beware, Blood and Violence, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Fluff, Insomnia, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Selectively Mute Frisk, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Suicide mention, Unethical Experimentation, also rly awkward, and get really dark, but - Freeform, but not actually that slow, it's like eating a pepper that isn't that hot in the beginning but then it picks up super fast, like too sweet for her own good, reader is female, super sweet reader, this is gonna dip, very infuriating in the beginning w/ monster haters and all that fun jazz, warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neyrthli/pseuds/neyrthli
Summary: It's something so impossibly deep, hidden away from your eyes in the darkness that seems to encompass everything. You still for a moment, searching the vast expanse for something. Anything. Suddenly, there's a small flash in the distance, and that's all you need to know before you're bounding forward towards that tiny flicker of hope.





	1. *kind.

**Author's Note:**

> so... this is my first official undertale fanfiction. to be honest, i've been planning something like this for a while now, maybe a little under a year?? even so, i'm still pretty inexperienced with writing, so please don't hesitate to tell me how i'm doing or if i need to improve anything! i hope you enjoy, you're in for a long ride.

You wave to Benjamin from across the street, looking both ways for any oncoming cars and crossing when you see there aren’t any. Positivity radiates off of him as you head over, ears perking up on his head while he flashes you his signature bucktoothed smile. The cheerful monster practically bounces in place when you stop in front of the nice cream stand, already reaching into the cooler and pulling out the icy treat. 

“You know me too well, Ben,” you sigh with a smile, pulling out the appropriate amount of money only to be stopped by his paw. 

“Nuh-uh, it’s on the house!” he chirps, a twinkle in his bright eyes. You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to give him the money again but he refuses to take it. Benjamin laughs and holds your free hand, placing the nice cream into it and patting it gently. “It’s fine. One nice cream isn’t going to hurt anybody.” 

“But I can't just take it—”

“Yes, you can,” he chuckles. “It’s okay. Plus, it’ll turn into actual ice if you don't eat it soon.” The hint of amusement in his voice makes you huff, but slowly, a bright smile spreads on your face. You quickly stuff the cash into your pocket, keeping a firm grip on the popsicle stick. With a resigned sigh, you unwrap the sweet. Your eyes scan the small print on the plastic, located next to a tiny jar. “You’re sweeter than honey!” a voice chimes in your head, and it sounded an awful lot like Benjamin’s. A giggle escapes your lips and he beams. 

“Thanks. You’re pretty sweet, yourself,” you add shyly. He visibly perks up and laughs. 

“How have you been? You haven't come by for some time.” He places his elbows on top of the cart.

“Oh, you know. Work and all that fun stuff,” you reply, taking a small nibble of the nice cream. Vanilla explodes in your mouth, mixing with some sort of other flavor you can’t place. The fizzy sensation courses throughout your body, vibrating in your bones before dispersing completely. Benjamin smiles at your awestruck expression, laughing when you say, “I'll never get used to that.”

“I’m guessing you like it?”

“Yeah!” you gush, taking another bite. “It’s delicious!”

“It’s my homemade recipe,” he hums, rocking on the balls of his feet.

Your expression changes into something devious.

“Oh? How much would it be for that?”  
“It’s not for sale,” he bats back with a short laugh.

You sigh exaggeratedly, but crack a smile and take a bite of the nice cream.

“But how have you been? Has business been going well?”

It’s like the atmosphere drops almost instantly, the happy look on his face morphing into a more troubled expression. His smile falters and his ears droop as he averts his gaze, fumbling with his hands.

“Well, not exactly.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should continue. It’s clear something is wrong, but you don’t know if it would be best to approach it directly. He seems a bit uncomfortable with the focus directed on him, but at the same time, it seems like talking about it might help. 

You decide to ask him about it.

“What do you mean?” 

He shifts in place, rotating his weight from one leg to the other, before frowning and hugging his arms.

“Seems that even though monsters have been on the surface for months, humans still don't trust us enough to eat our products,” he sighs. You frown. Benjamin’s such a nice guy, though. Every day he’d be eagerly waiting for a customer to pop by, only to be disappointed when no one came. Yet despite all that, he still woke up each day waiting for a person he didn’t know to arrive, holding onto the hope that if he was patient, it would all pay off in the end. You felt a pang of sadness in your chest, like a hand squeezing your heart.

You have the sudden urge to cheer him up—to at least make him smile so that he won’t focus on the negative things. After all, there were too many problems in the world already. What good would having another one do? The best you can do for now is cheer him up, and possibly even recommend nice creams to your co-workers when you have the chance to. Yeah, you decide, I’ll talk to all the people at the pet shop and see if they’d be interested in monster ice cream. They’ve always been experimental. You chuckle to yourself.

Beaming, you say, “You've got me eating this every other day or so. Humans will get hooked on this in no time! I guarantee it'll be a huge hit with the kids. Maybe the reason why people aren't eating it is because it's cold outside?” You contemplatively lick the treat. You give a thoughtful hum, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, he looks a bit better, and his ears have straightened up a little. The expression he has on his face, while a bit doubtful, mostly comes across as hopeful.

“Really?”  
At your nod, he places his finger on his chin and furrows his brow. “I see! Then I'll try and make it warmer for humans and monsters to enjoy!” You giggle, humoring the idea of warm ice cream and thinking about how strange the sensation would be. It would be a treat that contradicts itself, and it would definitely hook the daredevils of the food world. Although you hope it won’t be like melted ice cream in a bowl. That wouldn’t sell too well.

“Good luck with that!” you beam. “You can always count on me to try out your new ideas!” Benjamin nods quickly, enough so that his small hat falls to the floor. The two of you erupt in giggles, with you trying to prevent a snort from escaping as he tries to pick his hat up from the floor. 

“Ahh,” you fan yourself, “I should probably get going, though. I’ll be late if I keep going on for any longer.”

“Of course!” he replies, a bit breathless. “Come by anytime!”

He leans on the cart as you leave, an easy grin on his face. You wave bye and continue eating the nice cream on your way. 

You ease into the bustling city, monsters and humans rushing through narrow sidewalks as cars honked noisily in the streets. The different sounds mingle together and melt into the background, your attention caught by all the different sights. The city never failed to fascinate you; with its skyscrapers that towered over everything, and the dainty shops that ran the length of the streets. You’d see all sorts of different people each day, and you had lived here for your entire life. In reality, the recent discovery of monsters made you want to say even more, since your city was one of the more accepting places.

Occasionally, a monster would greet you as you walk by, and you would wave back with a friendly, “Hello!” Monsters were polite and kind, much more than a majority of humans you knew. A small smile forms on your face, and something in your chest begins to thrum. It’s fuzzy, and it’s not like you can ignore it; it’s coming directly from inside you. It doesn’t scare you though—if anything, it’s a comforting feeling. A few monsters walking by shoot you a glance and flash you a bright grin, and the thrumming gets a bit stronger.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and you get a barrage of crisp, morning air. A yelp escapes you as it sends chills throughout your body, but that slowly morphs into a pleasant warmth that makes you sigh. Winter is coming, and the city is wrapped up in the midst of fall. But it’s not even close to the holidays, and the city is already putting up lights all around the streetlights and trees. You snort at the realization and can’t help but think that it’s oddly fitting.  
A voice in the back of your head tells you to get going or you’ll be late for your job. A quick glance at the time has you picking up the pace, and you can’t afford to be late. No one else other than the manager and another employee is working today, and you’re going to have to hold up the morning and night shift, possibly dip into overtime. The thought brings a bitter taste into your mouth; you’d better get some extra pay, or else some heads are going to roll.

As you speed down the sidewalk, something in the cafe at the corner of the street catches your attention, and you find yourself looking through the window with a soft gasp. You watch as a woman shoots up from her seat and stomps her way over to the counter, slamming her drink onto the granite surface and sending a nasty glare to the monster at the register. Her lips are moving and they’re slowly being drawn back into a snarl. 

This is spiralling downwards and fast, so you quickly toss the nice cream stick into the trash and make your way over to the front door. With a deep breath, you grasp the metal handle and pull it open. The woman’s shrill voice pierces your ears the moment you step inside, drowning out the feeble chime of the bell above your head. You wince, wanting desperately to cover your ears and protect them from this grating sound. You don’t, and feel like you’ll regret that in the future. 

“You disgusting, idiotic monster!” she seethes, jabbing an accusing finger into the skeleton’s chest, or more specifically, his ribcage. He winces from the contact, hands raised in surrender as he stumbles to regain his composure. The monster looks terrified from the way she’s addressing him. Hostile and full of hate. From your point of view, it’s like an overprotective mother hearing someone insult her child. 

“M-MISS, I DIDN’T MEAN—”

“Oh, shut up with your excuses,” she hisses and sloshes the drink in front of him. “I’m no liar, and I saw you put something in my coffee.” A few particles of spit fly from her mouth and you grimace, seeing them land on the skeleton. He looks equally as disturbed, but is a lot better at hiding it immediately after. You can see the skeleton begin to close in on himself, almost as though he’s trying to make himself seem smaller. Clearly, though, that’s difficult to do, as he easily stands at around seven feet tall.

“This is why monsters shouldn’t work at human jobs. We’re all in danger,” she announces, turning her attention to the patrons of the cafe. What is this, an impromptu monster hate rally? You can feel your blood begin to boil as a few people gawk at her, while others look away with guilty expressions. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms and leaving crescent-shaped indents. “I say we boot them back underground, where they belong! They’ve lived for thousands of years down there; what’s to say a few more can’t hurt?” A cruel smile plays on her lips. 

Your hands grew tighter, deepening the marks on your skin, almost to the point of being painful. You bite your lip, nearly drawing blood from how much force you put into it. With an shuddering breath, you lock eyes with her and take a few steps closer. Her mouth turns down into a scowl, and you can feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest. The thrumming is back, only it sounds angrier somehow, like a cluster of bees. The woman’s long, painted nails tap the counter, a series of sharp clicks that practically scream annoyance. “Well?” she asks, clearly unamused.

You withdraw a little from the scathing look she gives you, taking a moment to recollect your thoughts. She merely smirks, looking pleased with herself for being able to make you stop in place. Something clicks, and you find the hesitation melting away and emerging as anger.

“What is wrong with you?” you fume, voice clipped and heavy with hidden rage. She just stares, slack-jawed with wide eyes. It reminds you of someone caught with their hand in the cookie jar—guilty. It’s almost like she didn’t expect you to call her out on her act. Then fury flickers in her eyes and she flares her nostrils, taking a threatening step towards you. You stand your ground, glaring back at her with a fierce look.

“What is wrong with _me_?” she sputters incredulously, going red in the face. You feel a surge of anger.

“Yeah,” you bite back. “He,” you gesture to the skeleton, “didn’t do anything wrong. I saw everything through the window. There’s someone in the wrong here, and it’s not him.”

Silence passes in the cafe for a minute. The two of you are just staring at each other, and the skeleton is looking back and forth between you. You can see the hesitance in his expression. Then with a loud scoff, she crosses her arms as a sour look crosses her face.

“Of course you’re one of them,” she spits.

“Who?”

“The monster lovers,” she clarifies, placing a hand on her hip. Her mouth is drawn back in a vicious smile, bright red lips tight against her teeth. “Monsters are welcome here, love, friendship, blah, blah.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well, they are,” you snap. “It’s people like you who shouldn’t be here. It’s because of people like you that humans have gotten such a bad reputation, since you’re too close-minded to accept that times are changing and not everything’s going to go your way.”

“We have the chance to be good people, to welcome others that we locked away underground for thousands of years because we were afraid. Pushing them away and forcing them back down under the mountain is so—wrong,” you frown. You stare at her straight in the eyes, trying to gauge her expression.

Suddenly, she laughs; a slow and inaudible chuckle, which quickly grows in volume and teeters on the edge of hysteria. You bite your lip, eyes flickering back and forth across her face. She finds delight in your stunned expression, judging from the unkind grin on her face, and leans back. In one swift move, she lurches forward and throws the cup straight at you.

It sails through the air and hits your chest, the lid coming undone and showering you with hot coffee. You yelp from the unexpected pain and peel your shirt from your skin, wincing at the residual heat it leaves behind. Luckily, the coffee isn’t too hot, otherwise you would have ended up going to the hospital with third-degree burns.

“HEY!” The shout startles you and you jump in place, head whipping around to the source of the sound. It came from the skeleton, but he isn’t facing you. Rather, he’s looking straight at the offending woman, who looks extremely satisfied with herself. He glances at you with a furrowed brow (bone brow? brow bone?) and looks to grow angrier, eye sockets narrowing significantly. He turns to the woman again.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? THE COFFEE IS HOT! SHE COULD HAVE BEEN SERIOUSLY HURT!”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she scoffs. 

The skeleton slowly rises to his full height, and he puffs out his chest a little. The woman fidgets in place, shifting her weight to her left leg. 

“WOWIE, YOU’RE REALLY NOT A NICE PERSON,” he comments. She scowls, preparing to retort with a nastier remark, before visibly shrinking back. Her eyes are blown wide and her hands are trembling, not to mention the way her legs look like they might buckle at any moment. With a rattling breath, she races to the front door and doesn’t even spare a glance over her shoulder, thrusting the door open and fleeing to the streets.

The skeleton keeps a watchful gaze on the door, then slowly picks up a rag and walks to you from behind the counter. He hesitates once he’s a few feet away, but you give him a reassuring smile, and he quickly makes his way over to you with newfound vigor. He helps you clean up, wiping away the coffee on your body and cleaning the floor. You sit in tense silence, your nerves shot from the encounter. But you try your best not to let it get to you. You turn to the skeleton next you you and offer him your best smile, asking, “What’s your name?”

His expression brightens immediately, the signs of a smile forming on his skull.

“PAPYRUS!” he declares in a voice oozing with confidence. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” For a moment, you feel like you got whiplash from how quickly his attitude changed, but you decide it’s for the better. After all, you like the confident version of him better than the scared one. 

He’s staring at you expectantly and you laugh, telling him your name. Papyrus then proceeds to compliment it loudly, making you let out an undignified squawk and hide your face in your hands. He lets out a nasally “NYEH HEH HEH!” while your cheeks burn as hot as the sun.

Papyrus stands up once he’s finished wiping off (most of) the coffee on your shirt. He extends a large, gloved hand to you, and you take it gratefully. 

“Thanks,” you chuckle, grasping the coffee cup tightly in your hands.

“OH, NO, THANK YOU, KIND HUMAN!” he beams and you furrow your brow. “YOU LOOKED LIKE YOU WOULD JUST STAND AROUND AND NOT TAKE ACTION, BUT IT APPEARS I HAVE BEEN JAPED!” The look on his face is positively radiant and you can’t help but smile, although the fact his statement rings true bothers you a bit. Why did it take you so long to interject? Were you afraid of something? It wasn’t even you who should have been scared, though. Your doubts are rising and you quickly shut them down, willing them to go away. They do.

“You’re welcome? But you don’t have to thank me for stuff like that. It’s just what a decent person would do, you know?” 

“THEN YOU ARE A VERY KIND HUMAN IN MY BOOKS!” You swear there are sparkles in his eye sockets. 

You giggle, “You’re a pretty cool monster in mine.” His jaw goes slack, when suddenly he lurches forward and bends down to your height. He holds his gloved hands to his chest, and you can hear the way his bones rattle in excitement(that’s a thing, right?). 

“REALLY? YOU THINK I’M...COOL?” When you nod, his hands fly to his cheeks and you can say without a doubt that there are sparkles in his eyes. He looks like he’s over the moon right now, and you can’t bring yourself to snap him out of it. So you wait for him to come down from his euphoria, and smile as he draws back to his full height. He coughs, placing his hands on his hips and cackling loudly.

“I MEAN, OF COURSE! I’M THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AFTER ALL.” The exuberant expression on his face stays the same, though.

He’s adorable, you conclude with a soft smile. The two of you continue talking for a little bit, and you now know he loves to cook, solve and make puzzles, and hang out with his friends. He’s just a big old sweetheart, and he’s such a genuine soul it makes you want to cry.

Speaking of crying. 

“Wait,” you gasp, whipping out your phone and checking the time. You’re late, you realize, as panic settles into your chest.

“HUMAN?”

“Oh, sorry—” You snap out of it, fumbling with your phone in your hands, “uh, can you put your number in?” He stares at the phone while you hold it out, expression shifting from confused to elated.

“SURE!” he agrees in a heartbeat. He takes it from your hands and quickly punches in his number, handing it back to you once he was done. He had named himself ‘THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ in all caps, and you found it suited him. Once you put it away, he holds out his own phone. It’s a bit clunky despite being similar to your own model, and the case is a pale red-orange. A smile graces your lips and you gladly take it, putting in your contact information and handing it back to him.

“But I really should get going,” you rush, already turning on your heel to start for the door. Papyrus just flashes you a large smile and waves energetically, excitement radiating off of him.

“HAVE A NICE DAY, HUMAN!”

“You too, Papyrus!”

As you rush out the door, you almost fail to notice the shorter skeleton standing next to the glass. You nearly slam the door into him before catching it and stopping it before it makes contact with his skull. He’s smiling, but there’s some sort of forced look to it. You’re horrified.

“I’m so sorry—” you stammer, eyes wide.

“eh, ‘s no biggie. guess you couldn’t _handle_ seeing an ol’ bag o’ bones like me, huh?” You could feel the chill of the door handle creep into your skin as you stood there, staring at him with an unwavering gaze. You didn’t even register he had made a pun, worrying over the fact you probably came off as rude to this guy. You nearly smashed a door into his face. He shifts in place with a rocky expression, shoving his hands into his pockets as the air settles uncomfortably.

“Oh, no! I didn’t mean— I’m just late for a job— uh,” you stumble over your words, letting go of the door and hearing the small sound of it clicking into place. The silence settles again and you fidget in place, but continue to stare straight into his eye sockets. His eye lights stare right back at you, but not really _at_ you. It's like he's staring into the depths of your soul, and you avert your gaze with an uncomfortable expression. 

“So, I’ll just get going,” you whisper, not waiting for a response before tearing down the street in the direction of your job.


	2. *redeeming.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You officially meet Sans.

Your phone blinks obnoxiously on your nightstand, the tacky ringtone blasting from its speakers. You groan and shift in your blankets, sluggishly reaching over and answering the call. The sun just barely peeks out from over the horizon as you look out your window, and that tells you it’s too early to be awake. For you, at least.

“Hello?” you greet in a voice laced with exhaustion.

“HUMAN!” You immediately wince from the volume of his staticky voice and pull the phone away from your ear. How can he be so energetic at—you sneak a quick glance at the time—seven o’clock in the morning? Your mind is barely functioning, yet he sounds like he could run a marathon right now if he wanted to. That’s a lot of energy you don’t have, and it’s already tiring you out.

“I WAS WONDERING IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO COME OVER AT TWO IN THE AFTERNOON? WE COULD HANG OUT AND SOLVE PUZZLES, AND I COULD TEACH YOU HOW TO MAKE MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI!” His words carry a specific lilt that makes you smile and chuckle quietly.

“Papyrus, it’s seven in the morning,” you yawn, sitting up and stretching. A few bones in your back pop, and you sigh at the crisp feeling.

“AND?” he answers, that happiness a permanent fixture in his voice. Even if you’re slightly annoyed from being woken up, something about his cheerfulness lifts your own spirits, as well.

“I need sleep?”

“OH! I REMEMBER HEARING THAT HUMANS NEED EIGHT TO TEN HOURS OF SLEEP A NIGHT TO FUNCTION!” 

“That sounds about right,” you confirm.

“DID YOU GET ENOUGH SLEEP?” he asks in a concerned tone.

You hum in thought. When exactly did you go to sleep last night? All you can remember is heading home after your shift, making dinner, and staying up to some time that you didn’t recall. Judging from how slow your body feels, you assume it was pretty late. You didn’t want to tell him that and have him worry about you, so you make up a time in your head.

“It was enough,” you reassure him, gently sliding out of the covers and getting up. He cackles at your response.

“GOOD! THAT WAY YOU’LL BE WELL-RESTED FOR THE HANGOUT TODAY!” You freeze on your way down the stairs, hand gripping the banister. You bite your lip, recovering and padding softly into the kitchen. 

You couldn’t hang out today. A lot of the employees _still_ hadn’t come back yet, and your manager practically begged you to come in today. How could you say no to someone who needed help? Not to mention, saying no to the person who wrote your paycheck each week didn’t really sound like a good idea.

You sigh, placing your hand on the counter.

“I’m really sorry, Papyrus, but I can’t hang out today.”

“OH.” The disappointment in his voice is as clear as day, and it makes you feel bad. Really bad. Something about him sounding so let down just doesn’t sit right with you.

“I’ve got to go into work today, and I won’t be getting off anytime soon,” you say with an airy laugh.

“WORK?” Even if he’s discouraged, his curiosity shines through, and you’re relieved at how much nicer it sounds. “MAY I ASK WHERE IT IS YOU WORK?”

“Of course!” you beam. ‘I work at the pet store on Gardenia, next to the florist?” There’s a small silence, then he suddenly gasps. His abrupt outburst turns into squealing (actual squealing) and he’s rattling off questions one after the other. What do you do there? Who do you work with? Are there animals there? _Real, live, animals?_ You try your best to answer his questions, but you only have so much air in your lungs. Plus, every time you stop to think, he’s already moved on to the next.

“DO THE—”

“Papyrus,” you exhale.

“YES?”

“If you’re that curious, you can always stop by?” you offer. A small smile forms on your lips when he agrees quickly, his excitement mirroring your own.

“COULD WE MOVE THE HANG OUT TO WHERE YOU WORK? I FEEL IT WOULD BE EASIER FOR YOU AND FOR ME,” he proposes, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. 

To be honest, it’s not that bad of an idea. After all, it would only be you, Papyrus, and maybe his brother. You don’t know much about his brother other than the fact he likes ketchup, puns, and being lazy. Also, his name is Sans. Hopefully, you wouldn’t come off as rude or awkward. You’ve had your fair share of bad impressions, and you really want to fix that.

“That sounds like a great idea!” you chirp, and Papyrus just cackles in response.

“OF COURSE! AFTER ALL, THE GREAT PAPYRUS ONLY COMES UP WITH THE BEST OF IDEAS!” You bite back a laugh and giggle instead.

“I second that. But I’ll see you around two? I should start getting ready for the day.

“YES, TWO IT IS. HAVE A LOVELY MORNING, HUMAN!” 

“You too, Papyrus. See you later!” You end the call with a content hum, placing your phone on the table. Then, you get to work making yourself a much-needed cup of coffee. You choose a turtle-shaped mug that says “I turtle-y love you” and smile sadly, keeping it clasped in your hands. It was gifted to you from a friend, and you had held onto it throughout the years. It might not seem like much to other people, but it means a lot to you. Even if it is worn down with paint chipping off of the ceramic, it instills the sense of remembrance in you.

With a quiet sigh, you shake your head and plaster a smile to your face. She wouldn't have wanted you to feel down.

You pour yourself a generous amount of the caffeinated drink, adding a bit of sugar and creamer. Taking a sip, you hum in satisfaction and sit down on the couch, leisurely drinking since you have the time to. You could thank Papyrus for that.

You wait around for a little bit until your coffee is finished, then place the mug in the sink and head into the bathroom to do your daily routine. After you clean up and feel a bit better than before, you go into your room and get dressed. There’s no need to get all gussied up, right? Even if you are hanging out with someone you only met a few days ago, and he might come to the store in nicer clothes than you… 

Okay, you might be worrying about this a little too much. You opt for some simple jeans and a sweater. It’s not cold enough to whip out the scarves, but it’s getting close.

You give yourself a once-over and nod, satisfied. There are about thirty minutes left until your shift starts, so it’d be best to get going now and arrive a bit earlier. With that mindset, you grab your keys and shove them into your pocket, along with your wallet, which sits comfortably in your back pocket. Now, you just need your phone. When you turn it on, you notice a few messages from Papyrus.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS: HUMAN!  
THE GREAT PAPYRUS: THERE IS SOMETHING I MUST ASK OF YOU!  
THE GREAT PAPYRUS: I WAS WONDERING IF MY BROTHER COULD JOIN US DURING OUR HANGOUT? RECENTLY, HE’S BEEN WORKING A LOT, AND I BELIEVE SOME CALM TIME WILL HELP HIM!!!  
THE GREAT PAPYRUS: I PROMISE NOT TO LET HIM POISON YOU WITH HIS TERRIBLE JOKES!

You laugh, quickly sending a reply. Papyrus is such a sweetheart; how could you, much less anyone say no to him? You had already been expecting this, and carefully decided on an answer before he even asked the question.

Me: Definitely! The more the merrier, right?

His response comes a minute later. It’s like he was waiting for the exact moment you would text back.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS: GREAT! THEN I SHALL TELL HIM THE GOOD NEWS! UNTIL TWO O’CLOCK, MY FRIEND!

Me: See you then!

You stare at the screen for a moment, then smile, stuffing your phone into your pocket. He really is a genuine soul. Even if he gets on his brother’s case for being lazy, you can tell he cares a lot about him. Not to mention, he’ll occasionally sneak in some praise for his brother through text messages and calls. The love he holds for his family warms your heart, and has you bouncing out the front door.

An hour later, you’re at work, and staring at the ceiling. It’s so _slow_ today. Granted, it is a Monday, but would it kill for something to happen? You grumble to yourself and glance at the clock. 

9:50 AM.

You still have four hours until Papyrus and his brother show up. At this discovery, you groan and Piper pokes her head out of the storage room. She just rolls her eyes and leaves you alone, a large box in her arms. You kind of want to call her back just so you have someone to talk to, but she’s clearly busy, and you don’t want to bother her.

You have never wanted the ability to control time this much.

12:06 AM.

There’s a woman standing in front of your counter. She’s been yelling at you for about ten minutes now. Why? Because you told her that the store didn’t have the specific item she wanted, since you were out of stock until further notice. You had watched in growing concern as her face turned red, lips curling down dangerously. You expected the outburst, of course, but could never really get over the shock of getting yelled at. 

Your eyes dart to the clock.

12:11 AM. 

Finally, she huffs and turns up her nose, walking away from you and through the doors. _Good riddance_ , you think, sighing softly. She had no right to come in and think she owned the place. She was a customer, and you were an employee. It wasn’t like you had the answers to everything she needed. She didn’t need to get mad at the fact the store was out of stock. It wasn’t you who depleted the supply.

Suddenly, Piper walks out of the storeroom with a box labelled “WHEELS”. She carefully sets it on the floor and sets up an assortment of hamster wheels on the display. You spot a specific, metallic wheel glaring at you from its place on the top shelf.

The urge to scream hits you harder than you thought.

1:30 AM.

The morning had winded down and entered the slower hours of your shift. It’s quiet, with the gentle hum of the air conditioners in the ceiling and the sound of Piper walking around on the other side of the store. It’s so calm and peaceful, inviting you to close your eyes and tilt backwards slightly. You nearly doze off when a sudden shout startles you awake.

“GET HIM!”

Three children barrel into the store, chasing a smaller, reptilian child with no arms. He looks frightened, stumbling over his feet as the kids continue to rush at him. You immediately rush over, tripping over your feet slightly.

“What’s going on here?” you ask, furrowing your brow. One of the children, who looks no older than 12, turns to you and sticks out his tongue. A messy mop of brown hair sits atop his head, eyes narrowed threateningly at you. 

“It’s none of your business!” he barks, and the other two kids cheer in agreement. You wring your hands, biting the inside of your cheek. Great. This is just how you wanted your day to go.

“It is if you’re hurting others,” you reply in a soft voice.

“But he’s a monster!” one of the other two chime in, pointing at the child they had been chasing. He quivers, and you can see his eyes dart back and forth between you and his tormentors. His tail twitches from side to side, and his body tenses up when he notices you staring at him. It looks like he’s getting ready to run if things turn sour.

“That doesn’t make it right to terrorize someone else,” you reprimand, your voice gaining a bit more confidence. “Would you like it if someone treated you badly because of what you look like and where you’re from?”

The smallest of the three, a boy with curly blonde hair, shakes his head. 

“Devin!” the first one hisses, glaring daggers at him. Devin darts behind the other boy, who shifts uncomfortably and meets the angry boy’s gaze.

“I don’t like this idea anymore, Sal,” he mumbles, eyes darting to the floor as he runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Ugh, you’re such a wimp, Kim,” Sal groans and pinches the space in between his eyes. Unsurprisingly, he mumbles a curse that you can’t quite hear. You can tell it’s bad, though, since Devin’s eyes go as big as saucers.

“See?” They all turn their attention to you, including the monster. But, to be fair, you caught his attention the moment you spoke up. “He isn’t any different than you,” you gesture to the monster, “and you aren’t any different from him.” You beckon the monster child over and he stares at you, then cautiously makes his way over to the small group. Sal glares at him, making him squirm under his gaze. You can feel a frown forming on your face.

The monster comes to stand a bit closer to you than the other children, partially hidden behind your leg. He looks at the others warily, his tail curling around his feet. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, turning your attention to him.

“Monster Kid,” he stammers, “but most people call me MK.” There’s a snort off to the side, and find yourself getting fed up with that kid. Nonetheless, you plaster a soft smile to your face and introduce yourself. He looks happier at that, and a bit more comfortable.

You turn to the other children, who look guilty, with the exception of Sal. “We all come from different places. I understand that sometimes, it’s scary to meet someone new. But that just adds to who we are as people. Rather than hate someone for being different, shouldn’t we accept them instead?” As you speak, Sal just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, looking very displeased with the current situation. Kim, Devin, and MK stare up at you, absorbing your words like a sponge.

“This sucks,” Sal interrupts. “Let’s go.” He starts walking to the door, then turns around midway and waves his hand. “I said, _let’s go!_ ” He focuses his eyes on Devin, who just hides even more behind Kim. There’s hesitance written in their expressions, and you can see Kim flinch when Sal glares at him.

“Are you guys deaf or something? What, did her words suddenly clog up your earholes?” he adds with a mocking tone, pulling at his earlobes obnoxiously.

“I don’t want to go,” Devin whispers, tightening his grip around the hem of Kim’s shirt. The boy in question just looks away, staring at the fish swimming around in the aquarium. Sal turns as red as a tomato. You’d laugh if you didn’t find this serious.

“You guys are so lame!” he growls and marches through the door, slamming it on his way out. _Thank god._

You clear your throat and turn to the kids, who are making their way towards you. Well, more specifically, towards MK. In return, he slowly emerges from behind your leg, meeting them halfway. You can hear the two apologizing to him, and your heart soars at the bright smile on MK’s face. He turns to you wearing this look of happiness, making your heart melt at such a pure emotion.

“Thank you, miss!” he calls out. He then says something to the other kids, who nod and start looking around the store. Once they’re a good ways away, MK races over to you and nearly faceplants onto the floor.

“It’s no problem at all,” you beam.

“But! You were so!! COOL!!!” he gushes, stars in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to say anything! I thought you would just ignore it or something, but you didn’t!” Your heart twists at his words. On one hand, you’re happy he’s okay and a little flustered from the praise he showers you in. On the other hand, the fact he was so used to being ignored makes you upset. He’s just a kid, and he had already seen the nastier side of the of the world.

While it does make you sad, he doesn’t seem to bothered about it. In fact, it doesn’t look like it bothers him at all. There’s a childish glint in his eyes that doesn’t dim or fade away. It’s shining as bright as ever, along with the huge grin on his face. He seems happy, so you don’t let those thoughts bother you.

“I don’t think I’m that cool, but I’m flattered you think that,” you chuckle nervously.

“WHAT? HUMAN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AREN’T THAT COOL? I THINK YOU ARE VERY COOL! THOUGH NOT AS COOL AS ME. BUT STILL VERY COOL!” 

MK turns to the door and gasps, “Hi, Papyrus! Hi, Sans!”

“GREETINGS, MK!”

“heya, kiddo.”

Devin calls MK from an aisle and he races over, barely managing to say goodbye. You shake your head and chuckle, staring after him, then turn to the door. 

Papyrus stands there in all his glory, armor shined and shimmering from the fluorescent lights as his red scarf trails lazily behind him. Also trailing lazily behind him is a shorter skeleton, wrapped up in a blue jacket and track pants, with pink slippers adorning his feet. You feel the greeting die in your throat, and for a second, your SOUL goes into a frenzied panic. You stare and he stares back, grin tight.

This was the skeleton you had royally embarrassed yourself in front of. You acted like a bumbling fool; first, nearly slamming into him with a door, then running from him because you felt too awkward to stay and properly say goodbye. How were you supposed to know he was Papyrus’ brother? Granted, you hadn’t seen any other skeleton monsters around, but it wasn’t like you could cross off the possibility.

“H-hey,” you try, clearing your throat.

“sup,” he responds coolly, eyelights fixated on your own.

“HI!” Papyrus beams, a small “nyeh heh heh” escaping his mouth. The smile on Sans’ face loosens up somewhat, and he has a fond look on his face.

“HUMAN, THIS IS MY BROTHER, SANS. SANS, THIS IS THAT REALLY NICE HUMAN I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT!”

You introduce yourself and Sans’ smile widens a fraction.

“i'm sans. sans the skeleton. but i believe we’ve met before,” he starts, sticking out his hand, “though i gotta _hand_ it to you, you were seriously in a hurry to get outta there.” There’s a depth to his words that makes a chill run up your spine. You gulp and smile apologetically, taking his hand and opening your mouth to say something, when a loud _ppbbt_ greets your ears.

Papyrus groans and slaps a gloved hand over his eye sockets, while Sans just waits for your reaction. You can’t stop the snort that escapes your lips and cover up your mouth, giggling a bit. His mouth twitches upwards, and his posture relaxes a bit. That’s progress, right?

“Sorry. I haven’t heard a whoopee cushion in forever,” you laugh awkwardly, pulling your hand away and letting it rest at your side.

“they’re a great ice-breaker,” he replies, and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

Papyrus looks back and forth between the two of you with an intensity that frightens you a little. His finger rests on his chin and his eyes are narrowed, a quiet “HMMM” reaching your ears. Suddenly, he snaps his gloved fingers with a gasp.

“what’s up, pap?” Sans glances at his brother, who just laughs and places a hand on his hip.

“NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!” There’s a bit of sweat sliding down the side of his skull, and you can tell Papyrus is trying his best to lie. It’s not a very good attempt, but you don’t want to grill him, so you let it slide. It seems Sans has the same idea.

“ok.” He shrugs, turning his attention back to you.

“So, do you have anything you want to see? Or we could stand here and talk. I don’t mind either.” Papyrus has stars glittering in his eyes as he runs off to the fish, and Sans just stays put. Then, without a word, he starts walking away and into the various aisles. You lose sight of him soon after, and you assume he’s checking out all the different things. 

You make your way back to the register and look around the store. There aren’t a lot of people in today. Excluding Sans and Papyrus, there’s only MK and his two friends running around the place. They’ll probably leave sometime soon, thought. The pet store only had so much to keep one entertained. 

You find your gaze drifting throughout the store, then focusing on Papyrus expressing his excitement about the fish by imitating large, swimming motions and making the kids laugh. Piper occasionally pokes her head out to see what’s going on, then turns to you with a confused look. You send her an amused grin while leaning on the counter. She rolls her eyes and darts back into the storage room. You hear the faint sound of a falling box and a string of curses.

Shaking your head, you survey the room again and land on Sans, who’s crouched over something on the ground. You lean to the side and gasp softly, realizing it’s one of the more grouchier cats. He’s petting her and she’s letting him, stretched out on her side as he rubs her head. How? You couldn’t even get near her before she’d start hissing and lashing out with her claws.

Actually, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to warm up to him with puns. Papyrus mentioned he loved puns, and by loved, he meant _loved_. He’d often tell you that a day never went by where Sans didn’t make at least five people groan from his jokes. While you weren’t amazingly quick on your feet, you felt like you could fare pretty well. You knew a couple of good ones from the friend who gave you the turtle mug, and could thank them for this opportunity.

“Hey,” you call out, starting to walk over to him. He turns to you, continuing to pet the cat, who just keeps on purring. “How do you get along with her so well? Normally, she’s a real _sourpuss._ ”

Sans’ grin gets wider and he stops running his hand over her fur, standing up and facing you completely. 

“aw. geez, pal. you could’ve warned me. it would’ve been _clawful_ to have her scratch me,” he drawls, leaning down to gently scratch her behind the ears. She meows in satisfaction, rubbing up against his hand. You don’t miss the amusement in his voice. 

“though, _tibia_ honest, she’s pretty cute. mind if i _cat_ nap her?” His grin grows impossibly wide. Double whammy. Wait, now you need to remember bone puns. Skull? No. Spine? No. Humerus? Humerus.

“You’re a pretty _humerus_ guy,” you smile. Finally, his posture relaxes completely. He winks, making your cheeks flare. 

“and you’re an alright human. sorry, guess i misjudged you.” He scratches his skull, shifting in place. You wave your hands in front of you, wanting to make sure he didn’t feel guilty about anything. It was your fault, not his. You were the one who ran without saying anything. He didn’t need to apologize for a thing.

“No, it’s fine! I’m sorry about running off that day. I really was late for work, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” 

“hey, it‘s no biggie. it was all a misunderstanding,” he hums. “after all, if you really weren’t a nice person, i wouldn’t know how you got to meet paps.” He thrusts a thumb in Papyrus’ relative direction, as he’s racing around the different aisles and cackling. The kids are following behind him, bursting out into peals of laughter as they all collide and slide around on the floor.

“He’s a sweetheart,” you sigh, “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like him.” 

“me neither,” he responds, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. 

The cat meows and butts up against Sans’ leg, taking residence on his foot. You laugh as he shrugs and lets the feline do whatever she wants. 

“But seriously, are you this good with all animals? I’ve never seen anyone get close to her without getting a faceful of claws!” 

“sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

You flush, “Maybe I am.” 

He just chuckles. “dunno. maybe they’ve got a bone to pick with me?” You hum, then furrow your brow.

“What about dogs?” 

“uh. dogs in general go nuts when they see me or paps. down in snowdin, there was always a dog stealing my bro’s special attack,” he snorts.

“Snowdin?” you ask, curiosity piqued. He lets out a noncommittal grunt and shrugs. 

“it’s all the way down in the underground. pap and i lived there until we moved up here.” You nod in understanding. He turns to look at you, smile a bit more easy-going.

“but since you’ve asked me a buncha questions, mind if i ask one?”

“Go ahead,” you answer.

“is it true you guys have skeletons in your bodies?” He looks genuinely curious and you nod in response.

“All humans have a skeleton in their bodies. Without it, we'd be fleshy sacs on the floor,” you hum. Sans gives you a disgusted expression and you laugh.

“ew.”

“What?” You smile in amusement, “It's true.”

“it's still gross, y’know. no _bones_ about it.” 

You smile and shake your head, but Sans looks content. His grin isn't as forced as when you first met him, and overall, he looks less guarded. Your eyes scan his face, and you realize just how different he looks from a human skeleton. 

His skull is more rounded and softer around the edges, and there doesn't appear to be any junction separating his upper and lower jaw. The nasal cavity sits a little above his mouth, but his eye sockets are bigger than a human’s. Not to mention, his face is extremely expressive despite being made entirely of bone. Or something that looks like bone? It seems a lot more malleable than you thought it would be.

His eyelights dilate and enlarge just like human eyes, and his teeth aren’t too far off, either. While his bones are strikingly similar to a human skeleton, you notice they’re thicker, but not by much. If you squint, you can see a faint, fuzzy outline surrounding his bones. It’s a faded blue, and while not very visible, there.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he comments, and you snap your attention to him, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You avert your gaze, messing with a loose strand on your shirt.

“don’t apologize, i guess i’m just a _bone_ -afide beauty.” He shrugs.

“Yeah,” you agree, then promptly want to kick yourself in the mouth.

A smidge of blue dusts his cheekbones and he stares at you, brow raised. He almost looks amused, if not for the way his eyelights dilate into small pinpricks.

“you, uh, know i’m a skeleton, right?”

You nod after a few seconds, fumbling with your hands.

“huh,” he says, more to himself than you. 

You stand in silence, your body a bundle of nerves as the embarrassment only intensifies with time. You hadn’t meant to say that—at least out loud—and dig yourself a deeper grave. He must think you’re so weird right now. Why did you agree, too? Obviously, he’d meant it as a joke, but you felt like validating it? Did you suddenly find out you have a thing for skeletons?

_...does that mean you’re a necrophiliac?_

As your horror mounts, Papyrus pops out from around the corner and walks over to Sans, calmly picking him up as if he were nothing.

The shorter skeleton immediately goes limp in his brother’s arms, and you think you can hear him snoring. Papyrus must hear it too, since he sighs softly and rolls his eyes. Eye sockets?

“HUMAN! THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING US TO STAY DURING THE HANGOUT!” He smiles, adjusting his grip on Sans. “I THOROUGHLY ENJOYED MY EXPERIENCE! I CANNOT SAY MUCH FOR SANS, HOWEVER.” 

In response, Sans lazily lifts up his hand and forms it into a thumbs-up. Papyrus’ expression gets even brighter.

“THAT’S GOOD! YOU TWO ARE GETTING ALONG!” he says, looking pleased with himself.

“It was pretty fun for me, too. I’m glad you guys came to the shop!” you chime in.

“NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE IT WOULD BE FUN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE, AFTER ALL!” he trills, striking a pose while somehow keeping Sans from falling to the ground. That’s something only Papyrus can do.

“Definitely,” you giggle with a fond expression. There’s something so pure about the way he carries himself, and it’s honestly refreshing. 

“BUT ALAS, WE MUST PART WAYS!” he sighs, his shoulders slumping the tiniest bit. “UNTIL NEXT TIME?”

“Until next time,” you confirm, then give him a smile and a wave as he turns and walks to the door. He waves back energetically, and you notice that Sans gives you a two-finger salute as they walk out. It’s a surprisingly relieving gesture. 

After a few seconds, your phone buzzes in your pocket. There’s nobody in the store, so it can’t hurt to check.

Unknown: knock knock

The corners of your mouth curl into a smile as you type a reply, already knowing who it is.

Me: Who’s there?

Unknown: beats

Me: Beats who?

Unknown: beats me

Me: That was bad.

Unknown: bet it made you laugh

Me: It was enough to make me groan.

Unknown: close enough

Me: But how did you get my number?

Unknown: paps gave it to me

Me: Oh, right.

Unknown: you forgot paps had it?

Me: Maybe.

Unknown: geez, you’re worse than me at remembering things

Me: Hey!

Unknown: but what can i say? i’m a pretty big bonehead

Me: I’m not talking to you anymore.

Unknown: c’mon, i bet you found that pretty

Me: Don’t you dare.

Unknown: humerus

A laugh escapes your lips and your shoulders shake in mirth, comfort washing over you like a wave. It’s a far cry from how anxious you felt earlier, and it’s an enjoyable change. Since there’s no point in keeping his contact unknown, you name it “Sans”. It’s a bit plain and simple, but you feel like that’s what he’d put it as. 

A notification pops up in the corner of your screen and you smile, already opening up your messages app.

Yeah. This isn’t too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for putting this out late! i'm honestly concerned at how long this chapter is, and i'm a bit worried that it might be too much :') it's a little over 5000 words, so if it gets uncomfortable, please say so, and i'll try to shorten the lengths of the chapters, or split them up somehow. but i managed to get this out after staying up to one in the morning !!


	3. *reminiscent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You talk with Sans and briefly meet Frisk.

Your phone is raised to your ear, the glass screen pressed flush against your skin. With a sound of confusion, you stare at the lumpy form of the skeleton sleeping on the top of the nice cream cart. Sans has his arms folded haphazardly under his skull, and you wonder if they’ll be sore when he wakes up. Do his bones even get sore? He doesn’t really have muscles to get sore from, but you’ve learned that it doesn’t matter whether or not they exist. 

He seems peaceful, with the way his body gently goes up, then slowly goes down. They’re slow, even breaths, and you take a second to wonder if he even needs to breathe. He doesn’t have lungs, but then again, you’ve learned that it doesn’t matter whether or not they exist. It just happens, and sometimes, there doesn’t even need to be a reason why.

“Hello? Are you still there?” Benjamin’s worried voice reaches your ears and snaps you out of your reverie. You apologize in a hushed tone, trying not to wake Sans up. He seems like he needs the shut-eye. 

“Sorry, I got distracted for a second there.” A loose chuckle comes from his side of the line.

“Hey, no worries! I completely understand! Sans kinda just pops out of nowhere,” he says casually.

“How’d you know?” you gasp, then quickly dial it back a bit. That got a bit loud for a moment.

“From years of knowledge,” he explains, “and it’s just obvious.” You hum, urging him to continue. 

“Occasionally, he just appears out of mid-air and decides to take my shift for the day,” he laughs. “I always make sure to pay him a little extra for the help, since he gives me time to hang out with my family. Though, I wish he’d give me a heads up. Sometimes, I’m already out here and selling when he decides to drop by!”

“That’s nice of him,” you comment.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty good guy,” Benjamin agrees, then gasps softly. “Say, how do you know him? I haven’t heard anything from you so far.”

You can feel your embarrassment spike and send heat rushing to your cheeks, the memories of that encounter clear in your head. A small groan leaves your lips, and Benjamin asks if you’re okay.

“Yeah, it’s just embarrassing.”

“How?”

“I, uh, nearly ran into him with a door. Then I literally ran _from_ him.”

“Oh. That’s an, um, interesting way to meet someone?”

“I want to erase that entire scene and start over,” you grumble. Benjamin giggles from over the phone, the jubilant sound pouring from your speakers. 

“Alright, alright. I’m sure it wasn’t too bad. You’re friends now, right?”

“I think so?” you say, then add, “I hope so.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Sans shifts in his spot, and your gaze is on him again. You glance over his skull, taking note of the bags situated under his eye sockets. They’re deep, and it looks like he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest in days. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s true. Maybe that’s why he seems so tired all the time. 

Now that you think about it, he always lugged himself around like there was something weighing him down. You thought that you had a bad slouch, but it was nothing compared to his. He always sounded sleepy, with a permanent drowsiness attached to this words. Was that just how he was? Or was it something a bit deeper than that?

You had all but tuned out Benjamin by this point, too engrossed in your thoughts and questions about Sans. A bit of worry jabs your soul, but you push it down. There was no need to get stressed over nothing, right?

“...what do you think?” Benjamin squeaks, his voice sounding nervous.

You blanch. You had been paying so much attention to Sans that you had completely forgotten Benjamin. Mentally kicking yourself in the behind, you try your best to remember even a little of what he said. Small fragments come to mind, something about a nice cream and different flavors, but that’s all you can recall. 

Well, if it’s that, you’re sure it’s bound to be amazing.

“I think it’s great!” you answer in a voice that’s a bit too high and warbly. Benjamin lets out a sigh, and you hear the evident relief in his voice.

“Thank goodness. I was worried it might be too weird or something.”

Too weird? When did they become weird?

“But I’ve already stocked up the cart with the newer ones, so if you don’t mind, could you try one for me?”

You feel a bit hesitant, but curious at the same time. This is Benjamin; a logical, open-minded, and inventive monster. There’s no way he’d have you eat something that might make you sick. Or make you weirded out. Because nice creams aren’t weird. At least, they weren’t…?

“Sure?” you caution.

“Great!” You can see the smile on his face.

“No problem. I’m always willing to try out your creations!”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he crows.

The two of you talk about something else for a minute or two, before he says he needs to go. There’s something going on with his family, and you don’t miss the way his voice drops to a near whisper. Sure, you aren’t the most perceptive person, but even you can’t miss how anxious he sounds. It isn’t normal, and you find your concern increasing tenfold. With a quick goodbye and a reassurance, you hang up the phone. 

You stand there for a moment, staring out into the road. Is something wrong? You’ve never really had the chance to meet Benjamin’s family, but from what you’ve heard from him, they’re the sweetest monsters in the world. And Benjamin’s a nice guy, so by extension, his family would be too. They’re the monsters who raised him, after all. You bite your lip and drum your fingers on your thigh. You hope nothing bad’s happened.

With everything going on in the city, it isn’t unreasonable to assume that humans might have done something terrible. It seems like ever since the monsters came out of the mountain, a lot of people flipped on their “mean switch.” Constant riots, vandalism, and hate speech are present throughout the city, and in the worst cases, murder. With a bitter taste in your mouth, you understand that history is going to repeat itself if people keep going on like this.

God. 

Just the thought sends shivers down your spine. 

With a shaky breath, you turn around and face the nice cream stand again. Only to let out a short yelp of surprise. Sans appears to have woken up, and you don’t know how long he’s been awake. Did the phone call with Benjamin wake him up?

“jeez kid, looks like i spooked ya outta your skin,” he says and winks.

“Sans!” You huff, “Give me a warning next time, will you?”

“nah, your reactions are way too much fun to see,” he replies smoothly. His grin stretches and he props himself up on one hand, the other laid lazily on the cart. 

You roll your eyes, trying your best not to smile but failing miserably. “How’ve you been?”

“eh. could be better, but i’m not complaining.” He shrugs. “you?”

“It’s been okay. Just been doing whatever these past few days.”

“whatever? man, i’m way too familiar with that,” he snorts, leaning back a bit on his stool. “could practically be best friends.”

“Dang. And here I am with my life-long partner, whatever,” you grin. He just snickers in response.

“that whatever wouldn’t happen to be running into other monsters, would it?” he wonders with a teasing grin.

You blink, then whine and feel the heat rise to your cheeks. With a sound of exasperation, you pinch the skin between your eyes. You cast an embarrassed look at him, whispering, “I thought we were done with that!”

“it literally happened only a week or so ago. i tend to hold grudges,” he confesses. Somehow, you feel like there’s a deeper meaning to his words. The skeleton shoots you another wink, and you lose that train of thought.

“You said it was fine!”

“i did,” he hums.

You stare at him, gauging his expression, then sigh and relent. Another apology leaves your mouth.

Sans moves to respond, then freezes in place. He seems at a loss of words for a moment, his grin faltering as his shoulders slump downwards. Narrowing his eye sockets ever so slightly—not in an accusing manner, luckily—they stare into your own with some sort of curiosity. It’s like he’s trying to figure you out, and you’re starting to grow a bit uncomfortable from the intense scrutiny. Did you say something wrong? All you did was apologize. You don’t think that warrants a staredown.

“Hey,” you call. That seems to snap him back to reality, judging from the way his eyelights dilate slightly. With pastel blue lighting up his cheekbones, he averts his gaze.

“Is there something wrong?”

“no. i just, uh, didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Sorry?”

“yeah.”

“Oh.”

He scratches the back of his skull for a moment, and you can hear the grinding of bone on bone. The sound isn’t as unpleasant as you expected it to be, but then again, all of your expectations have been shattered into tiny pieces ever since you met Sans. The noise is pretty much the same as scratching your skin, only a bit rougher and harsher. You find it interesting, and push the thought to the back of your mind.

“but anyway,” he begins, capturing your attention even though he had it already, “didja need something?”

Originally, you had come here to talk to Benjamin over a nice cream. The thing was, you had already knocked out the first thing, and since Sans is here, you suppose a little conversation wouldn’t hurt. He seems like a pretty neat guy, when he isn’t suspicious of everything you say or do. That made it pretty awkward last time, and you just hope it won’t be the same now. 

Along the lines of that, you also need to make sure you don’t say anything overly embarrassing, as well. This week seems to be the “make yourself as lame as possible!” week. But you’re determined not to let it turn to that. After all, you were still wondering if you were a necrophiliac because of the hangout a few days ago. You didn't need any other opportunities to question your tastes.

“A nice cream and a good conversation?” you try with a nervous smile.

“ouch. and here i thought i was already providing,” he laments, faking an expression of hurt. As he says this, he reaches into the cart and takes one out. You release a soft laugh, pulling out the appropriate amount of money for the sweet. The two of you trade, and he just places the money on the top of the cart. You glance at the money, then at him, then back at the money. He raises a brow, then merely shrugs at your unsaid question. You guess it’s his answer for anything.

You lift your gaze from the money, beginning to unwrap the nice cream. Once that’s done, you notice right away that something has changed. Instead of the cute, bouncy letters handwritten on the wrapper, there’s writing you’ve never seen before. Actually, you have seen it before. It’s all over the internet, and normally passed off as a joke. With rounded, thick, letters, the realization dawns on you.

It’s _Comic Sans._

At this revelation, you let out an unattractive snort and cover your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles. What’s worse is the fact that the pun is in the ridiculous font, so you can’t really take it very seriously. _have a great day. i hope you have a skele-_ ton _of fun._

You try your best to stop the laughter, but every time you look and see the font, you just can't help but be amused. Sans is watching you with a bemused expression, and you can see his feet shift once or twice. Slowly but surely, your laughs trickle down into soft giggles, and soon, you can breathe again. You can actually look at the words without breaking down into a hysterical fit.

“Wait a minute,” you mumble.

“sup?” He snaps out of it, reverting back to his neutral expression consisting of a smile.

“Your name is Sans,” you note.

“that’s the name, don’t wear it out,” he responds, shutting his eye sockets.

“And you write in Comic Sans,” you add. He hums, providing a non-verbal answer. “Wait, does that mean Papyrus writes in Papyrus?”

“bingo.”

“That’s so cool!” you gush, looking at the pun again. You’re impressed by how it looks exactly like Comic Sans even though it’s handwritten.

“really?” He opens his eye sockets and gives you a weird look.

“Yeah!” you respond, turning the wrapper around and showing him the letters. “I’d give anything to write as neatly as that!” 

“neat? wow, you’ve really got to brush up on your vocab,” he chuckles.

“I’m serious! This is amazingly neat!” 

“thanks, kid. i guess you’re really _font_ of it.” You chuckle and acknowledge the pun, but your eyes don't miss the faint pastel blue on his skull. Is that like a blush for a skeleton? They don't have blood, though. Or do they? You don't know everything about monster anatomy, just that they're mostly made up of magic with a bit of physicality. Technically, they'd have blood then, right? That’s an interesting thought. 

Speaking of blood, your hand is starting to go numb, so you lift the nice cream to your face and take an experimental lick. The delightful vanilla flavor bursts in your mouth, and you voice a sound of approval. As always, magic is sent coursing through your body, creating that electrical feeling which dissipates soon afterwards. Benjamin said he added new ones, but this is no different from the one you had just days ago. Is there some sort of secret twist? You squint at it, and Sans just raises a brow.

“you seem to be enjoying yourself,” he comments, observing you. You nod in response.

“Monster magic is amazing,” you praise, then decide to lick it again. It’s different? The taste alters from vanilla to blueberry, sending your tastebuds into a frenzy at the sudden change. This is what Benjamin was working on? Because if so, kudos to him. Flavor-changing nice creams sound and taste amazing, from what you’ve just tried. Heck, you’d buy yourself a box just to eat at home. Sans looks amused at your expression of amazement, a chuckle escaping his mouth.

“glad you think so, bud.”

While you busy yourself with the sweet, Sans decides to get some more sleep. He slumps onto the cart and immediately begins to snore, making you laugh and nearly drop the dessert. The flavor alternates between vanilla and blueberry with every lick, and it’s such a great combination that you find yourself acting like a kid in a Tootsie Pop commercial. You ask yourself, _how many licks does it take to get to the center of a nice cream?_

Apparently, fifty-six, and you quickly throw the wrapper and the wooden stick into the small trashcan next to the stand. As you do so, you look at Sans, who opens an eye socket to stare back at you. He snickers, and zeroes in on your lips. You suck on your bottom lip, tasting the residual vanilla and blueberry that stuck there. You realize it’s probably blue now.

“well, _color_ me surprised. i didn’t expect this.”

“They’re blue, I know.”

“you _red_ me like a book.”

“Sans, they’re not even—”

“the blue looks good on you. i’m practically _green_ with envy.”

Sans’ grin just grows wider with each pun, and your laugh gets a little bit harder and a little bit louder. He looks like he just won the lottery, and he keeps on firing pun after pun. It’s a constant barrage of bad jokes; ones that really shouldn’t make you laugh, but find yourself doing so anyway. 

“Sans,” you wheeze, feeling light-headed. “Oh my god.” A flurry of giggles tumble out of your mouth, and you clutch your stomach hard enough that it begins to hurt a little. Your face feels as warm as a fire, and your eyes are heavy with unshed tears. A couple begin to slide down your face due to gravity, only for you to wipe them away and fan your face, trying to dry your eyes.

“wow, if i had crowds like you, i’d be living the life,” he whistles.

“Don’t know if you’d want that,” you chortle, having effectively calmed yourself down. “I used to really hate puns.”

“seriously?” His brow is drawn upwards in an expression of surprise, and you don’t blame him. If someone laughed as hard as you did at his puns, you’d have thought they were pun lovers from the start.

“Yeah, I didn’t really like them that much,” you continue. 

Sans lets out a small hum of curiosity, his eyelights flickering over your face. “how’d you start to like them?” 

“A friend,” you elaborate, “who really enjoyed puns.”

The same exact friend who bought you the large, turtle-shaped mug for your birthday, and constantly showered your life in clever wordplay. She was what changed your opinion on a lot of things you often found trivial when you were young. With her outgoing nature and cheerful demeanor, she opened you up to newer opportunities in life. It was her who showed you that there was a happiness in simple things. Like puns, for example. 

You never had the chance to thank her for that. And you never would.

Five years ago, she disappeared in the middle of the night. Leaving only a note scrawled out in chicken scratch, she said that she was going to climb Mount Ebott. In search of adventure, or just to get away, you didn’t know. You just hoped that someone stopped her before she got up too high. The rumors surrounding the mountain were frightening, to say the least. However, it seemed the universe didn’t share your thoughts.

The police report filed a few days afterwards described a tan backpack next to a hole in the ground, found somewhere on the side of the mountain. Mount Ebott, notorious for claiming six children thus far, had captured an adult who strayed too far from the trail. There was no evidence of foul play, and the case was sealed. It was labelled as a suicide.

You remember falling to the ground, all of the worry and anxiety wound up in your body finally snapping as you broke down. The sound of something breaking, like glass, echoed in your chest. It devastated you, sending waves of pain you didn’t even know existed throughout your body. You felt so alone that night, and wanted desperately to just talk to her. To hear her reassurance and her horrible puns.

But nobody came.

After her disappearance, it made you realize just how little you knew about her. _What did she like to do? What did she like to eat? What was her favorite color? Did she have a favorite hobby? Interests? Thoughts? Aspirations? Ideas?_

She had catered to every single one of your needs, yet you hadn’t provided anything for her. Nothing for her to stand on, to support herself with. She just kept on removing blocks from her own pedestal and gave them to you, building you up and making sure you were happy. Yet you hadn’t done the same for her. 

You didn’t see the way she lagged behind you, begging you to slow down. Your ears were full of fluff then, deaf to everything around you. Despite her tears, you only sped up as she pleaded for you to wait, and eventually, she was left alone. The cry for help sent your way went unnoticed, for you were too busy to understand. Too busy to care. College weighed heavily on your mind, and with exams coming up, you didn’t find time for other people. 

You think about it so much. If you had only just stayed for a _second_ , just _waited_ , then maybe— _just maybe_ , you could have kept a friend. She could have been here with you, laughing and getting along with Sans. The two could bond over their shared love of puns, and the thought sends a cold sliver of regret into your soul. She could have been happy. She could have been loved.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you quickly raise your hands to wipe them away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. You absolutely refused to cry. Definitely not in front of someone you barely know, and wouldn’t even know why you were crying. Why were you remembering this now, of all times? 

This really was the worst time to think about her. Something shifts, and the wooden stool scrapes against the sidewalk.

“hey,” it passes, like a whisper, through your ears, “are you alright? you don’t look so good.” Sans has furrowed his brow, watching you intently.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble and clear your voice, standing up a little straighter. You plaster a smile onto your face and try not to break out into tears. It’s hard enough masking how thick your voice is right now—it’d be a nightmare to try and reassure him that you’re fine while bawling your eyes out. He doesn’t look convinced, but something in your voice seems to keep him from prying. 

“you sure? you looked like you were gonna burn holes through the sidewalk if you kept on staring.”

You need to lighten the mood. “Ha. Maybe I was trying to.”

“oh? teach me your ways of shooting lasers out of your eyeballs,” he drawls, rolling his eyelights. You giggle a bit, humoring him. The image that pops into your head is far from flattering, but it's interesting nonetheless. You already feel a bit better.

“Get back to me in a few years, young one,” you retort, a shy grin on your face. 

“young one? excuse you, but i'm probably older than you by a ton.”

“Wait, what—”

“a skele-ton.”

You shake your head. “You've used that one already.”

“doesn't make it any less funny,” he replies.

You kind of just stare, Sans’ previous words sticking to you. Either he was just exaggerating, or he really was much older than you. Did monsters age slower than humans, or around the same rate? A curiosity ignites inside of you, and you hum thoughtfully.

“How old are you?” 

“geez, throwing hardballs already? don’tcha know it's rude to ask a guy his age?” he chastises playfully, feigning offense. You smile sheepishly, since you're honestly just asking because you're curious. He stills for a moment, like he's calculating something in his head, then flat out tells you:

“i’m a hundred.”

You stare, but don't say anything, so he continues talking.

“part of that is ‘cause i’m a boss monster, but that's not important,” he elaborates. He waves dismissively, then shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets. “technically, i'm twenty-two. monster years, of course.” 

You barely register he had spoken at all, thinking about this newfound information. He's one hundred years old. _One hundred_. Being at the ripe age of twenty-three, you couldn’t hold a candle to that, since he was nearly five times your age. He’s older than you, yet younger than you at the same time. It’s a bit alarming, you admit, but a small amount of relief comes from the fact that he is, essentially, twenty-two. 

“Wow, okay,” you whisper after a prolonged silence.

“you, uh, good there, bud?” He’s starting to sweat a little.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just thinking about how you’re twenty-two. Which means I’m older than you by a year. So, I can call you young one. Technically speaking.”

Your cheeks redden immediately once you realize what you said, and you let out an awkward laugh that sounds much too forced. Of everything you could have said, you just had to choose that one. You could have told him how cool that was, or how interesting the aging between monsters and humans differed so much. But no, you just went and tried to justify your use of a nickname. One that wouldn’t even stick. 

Why were you so bad at this?

He’s completely still, not moving an inch, before a deep chuckle leaves his mouth. 

“i tell you i’m that old, and that’s the first thing your mind goes to?” he laughs. “you really are different from everyone else.”

“How so?”

“most of the humans who find out i’m a hundred either don’t believe me, or think that i’m the incarnation of Death. they kinda just assume i steal people’s years when i take them away into the underworld. you saying that is a bit of a nice change.” He winks at you. You feel flattered.

“Me telling you that I’m older than you?” you question. “That’s a strange thing to call nice.”

“considering everything else that’s been said, it’s nice,” he reaffirms. You nod, absentmindedly surveying the area as you think about his words. He’s already been called the Grim Reaper, but what other things could people have said about him? It doesn’t seem like a majority of them would be nice, considering how people tend to view skeletons as a symbol of death. The realization makes you frown—he didn’t need any of that. None of the monsters needed that kind of negative attention.

Sans has closed his eye sockets, seeming to doze off again, before sitting up as a small child with short, choppy, brown hair runs up to the stand. Their tanned skin glows in the morning light, and they look up at you with a small smile. You return one to them, feeling a bit joyful from the sweet gesture. They raise their hands and make a series of motions, ones you vaguely remember as being sign language. It’s a shame you didn’t take the time to learn it, but you can recognize a little bit of it.

Your skeletal friend notices your obvious confusion, and decides to translate for you.

“their name’s frisk, and they’re asking for your name.” Frisk, in return, nods enthusiastically.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t really know sign language,” you apologize meekly, but they just shake their head with a smile. You tell them your name afterwards, and they nod and turn to Sans with their hands flying. 

“woah, wait a minute.” Sans holds his hands up, and there’s a distinct blush on his cheekbones. It isn’t blue like before, but more of a cyan now. “i wasn’t aware of these accusations, kid.” 

Frisk just grins deviously and signs something else, to which he snorts at and lowers his hands. 

“c’mon, i’ve only known her for a week.”

Oh.

_Oh._

They’re talking about you. Somehow, you don’t know whether to feel worried or confused. There were a range of topics they could apply to you, and you had no idea which one it could be. It should make you feel nervous, but you just feel a bit entertained. Seeing Frisk continue to throw some sort of “accusation” at Sans, only for him to bat it away with a shrug or a laugh, makes your soul buzz.

While you don’t really know what’s going on in the conversation, and probably never will, you could at least look on as an observer watching two friends banter. You feel strangely comfortable standing on the sidewalk, laughing when Frisk gets frustrated and sticks out their tongue. Sans just winks at them, all traces of embarrassment gone.

With an indignant huff, Frisk turns away from Sans and signs something to you. You can barely recognize the words ‘you’ and ‘crush’. They cross their arms once they’re done, staring up at you with a smug grin.

“...do I have any crushes?” you guess. They nod immediately, a bright smile on their face. 

“Well,” you start and look to Sans for help, but he just shrugs. At the same time, he looks equally as interested as Frisk, despite his carefree expression.

“Not currently?” you finish, a bit of doubt in your voice. Frisk looks unsatisfied with your answer, and signs something to Sans, who just rolls his eyelights.

You didn’t really pursue crushes throughout your life, since they always ended up with you getting heartbroken one way or the other. Either the person just wasn’t interested in anybody, you weren’t their type, or they had a crush on someone else. In a way, crushes became painful to you, so you tended to avoid them.

Frisk’s question makes you think for a moment. People often describe a crush as a strong desire for someone, but there isn’t anyone who comes to mind when you put it like that. Suddenly, your soul whispers something, and a wave of confusion washes over you. It’s painfully clear in your soul who you want, what it needs, but your mind refuses to acknowledge it. It tries to suppress that obvious, giddy feeling, but the emotion refuses to die out. 

Your eyes unconsciously land on Sans, and he turns his head to look at you.

"you alright?"

"Yeah! I'm fine!" you chirp.

"okay," he hums.

There's no way, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for such a late chapter. :') this week was honestly one of the busiest i've had, but it's letting up, so i'm going to be trying to write non-stop for the next few days. also! next week, i'll be going camping with my family, so i might not get anything out then. i'll try my best to, though! and thank you so much to everyone who's been reading, giving kudos, and leaving comments! those honestly make my day whenever i see them, because it's nice to interact with you all. :'o
> 
> drop by my tumblr! - https://neyrthli.tumblr.com


	4. *intimidating.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet an aggressive fish-lady and make mediocre spaghetti.

Of course there’s no way.

You’ve only known him for a little over a week, and you doubt that you’ve gained a crush on him in that short amount of time. Surely, it was just your mind overthinking everything, right? And besides, he’s still suspicious of you, so why would you have a crush on someone who analyzes everything you do? 

Admittedly, you understand a little bit. Humans have been pretty rude and aggressive towards monsters, so it isn’t surprising to know that he doesn’t trust you completely. At the same time, you’re a bit miffed at the fact he seems surprised whenever you do something that throws him off guard. Normally, it’s something that you do on a daily basis, but he acts like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Actually, that might be true. Your annoyance fades away.

Just thinking about this confuses you even more, and if feels like you’re fighting yourself. Your mind tells you that it’s not logical to have a crush on someone you just met, while your soul jerks in protest. It fights against that idea with a ferocity you didn’t know it had, and it makes you second guess yourself. Did you have a crush on Sans? The punny and lazy skeleton, Sans?

You don’t want to think about it. It’ll just make things awkward between you two. After all, it’s not like he’d like you back anyway. It seems like he’s just tolerating you, judging by how he’s actively questioning your every move. You try to ignore the slight jab your soul feels at that notion, and try to focus on the task at hand.

Wait, what were you doing?

You stand on the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of your jacket as you look around at the various stores. They’re all unfamiliar to you, and you think you’re in another part of town. Shoot. You were so lost in thought you managed to get yourself _actually_ lost. Desperately, you try to find a familiar landmark to figure out just where you are, completely forgetting the fact your phone is in your pocket. 

Suddenly, you see a familiar scarf and sigh in relief, catching up to the skeletal figure. 

“Papyrus?” you call, and he stops and turns around.

“HUMAN? OH! I DIDN’T EXPECT TO SEE YOU!” he says excitedly.

“Me neither,” you agree, and look around once more. “But do you know where this place is? I think I’m lost.”

“LOST? HM. I CAN’T SAY I’M FAMILIAR WITH THIS PLACE, AS WELL,” he says with a contemplative look. Then he snaps his gloved fingers, letting out a loud, “AHA!”

“I’M HEADING OVER TO MY FRIEND’S HOUSE, ACTUALLY! MAYBE YOU CAN TAG ALONG AND FIND OUT WHERE YOU ARE THEN?” he offers.

“That’s...not a bad idea,” you reply. 

“ALRIGHTY! JUST FOLLOW ME AND WE’LL BE THERE IN NO TIME!”

You trail behind him as he continues walking, keeping an eye out for anything you might recognize. He hums a poppy tune as he goes along the sidewalk, and you feel like you have it memorized after ten minutes have passed. You’re starting to hum it under your breath too, and Papyrus glances at you for a moment. In your defense, it was an easy melody to remember.

But you know what’s not easy to remember? What places are located around your house. Despite the fact that you have been walking for a good twenty minutes now, you can’t see anything that jumps out at you or jogs your memory. If anything, you just seem to be going even deeper into uncharted territory, and you eventually give up trying to scout out something familiar. At least Papyrus is here. 

Eventually, the two of you round the corner, and you see a large, blue house sitting on the other side of the street.

“THAT’S UNDYNE’S HOUSE,” he says and points, “COME ON!”

“Wait, Papyrus.”

“HM?”

You bite your lip and say, “I didn’t recognize anything on the way here. I don’t even know if my house is even remotely close to this area.”

“THEN I GUESS YOU’LL JUST STICK WITH ME?” he asks, looking confused. 

“But won’t Undyne get mad?” You frown.

“I’M SURE SHE’LL BE FINE WITH IT! PLUS, YOU’RE REALLY NICE AND I’M SURE SHE’LL LOVE YOU!” Papyrus gives you a reassuring smile and you sigh softly, then give him a small one in return.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” you relent.

“OF COURSE I’M SURE! I’M THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AFTER ALL! NYEH HEH HEH!” You giggle, following him as you both cross the street. Once you’re on the other side, Papyrus strides up to the house and knocks on the door, three whacks resounding throughout the home. You can hear someone yelling from across the room and the sound of footsteps racing across hardwood floor. You bet that’s Undyne.

Sure enough, the door opens to reveal a monster decked out in shimmering blue scales with smooth red hair situated on her head. It’s tied off into a high ponytail, and sways with every movement she makes. Her teeth are rather pointed, but the ends are dulled slightly, and they hand a bit over her bottom lip. An eyepatch covers her left eye while a yellow one is focused on Papyrus.

“Hey, Papyrus!” she beams, placing a webbed hand on her hip. “Haven’t seen you in some time. How have you been?”

“IT’S BEEN FANTASTIC!” he booms, puffing up his chest. “I’VE MADE A BRAND-NEW FRIEND! SHE IS VERY NICE AND SWEET.” Papyrus steps off to the side and presents you to Undyne, whose gaze immediately hardens at your appearance. Her grin tightens, and you recognize the familiar look.

Just like Sans. She doesn’t trust you at all.

“I...see,” she says after a moment of silence. “Well, I’m Undyne.” 

You tell her your name and she nods. She’s still staring at you with that piercing yellow eye, and you avert your gaze. She’s intimidating, to say the least. 

Suddenly, she opens the door a little bit wider, beckoning the two of you inside. As you enter, you can feel her hard gaze on your back. It makes you a little uncomfortable, but you brush it off.

As she shuts the door behind you, there’s the pattering of tiny feet on the hardwood floor and you see Frisk whip around the corner, holding onto the wall for support. They pause, look back and forth between you and Papyrus, then beam and rush at the two of you. They barrel into Papyrus, who picks them up in his large hands. As they turn to look at you, they wave, then sign something to you.

“What...what am I doing...here?” you mumble, a bit slowly since you don’t grasp the language just yet. It seems you hit the nail on the head, though, and Frisk nods. You feel strangely proud of yourself. Lately, you’ve been trying to learn a little bit of sign language everyday so that you could communicate with them better. Ever since you first met them, you wanted to make it more comfortable for them, just in case you might run into them again. It seems you planned well.

Undyne suddenly comes to life and pipes up right after, her eyes narrowing a bit. “Yeah, why are you here? Papyrus didn’t mention anything about extra guests,” she says suspiciously. You can feel the guilt eating away at you, and you bite your lip.

“I...um…” you start, but to no avail. Undyne’s eyes narrow even more. You really don’t have a good excuse for suddenly showing up on someone’s doorstep. You’d tell her that Papyrus invited you in a way, but you don’t want her to get mad at Papyrus. He was just trying to be kind, and he was looking out for you, too! “I...” you try again, but the words just won’t come out.

Papyrus seems to notice your discomfort and smiles good-naturedly at Undyne, carefully keeping Frisk secure in his arms.

“I INVITED HER, UNDYNE!” he says happily, a slightly goofy expression on his face. She carefully removes her gaze from you and turns to Papyrus, letting out a curt, “What.”

“WELL, SHE WAS LOST, AND I COULDN’T JUST LEAVE HER OUT THERE! IT WOULD BE WRONG TO DO SO! ADDITIONALLY, SHE HAS HELPED ME BEFORE, SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE RIGHT TO HELP HER!”

“Wait. Wait a minute. Which friend is she?” Undyne points a finger at you and you blink, then meekly wave. She just looks at you out of the corner of her eye, stance less hostile and more curious than before. 

“I’VE TOLD YOU ABOUT HER BEFORE! AT THE COFFEE SHOP WHERE I WORK, SHE CAME AND SWOOPED IN TO SAVE ME FROM A VERY NASTY LADY,” Papyrus explains. You blush and mumble something, staring at the floor. “SHE WAS QUITE AMAZING!!” 

“It was nothing,” you whisper, fidgeting in place. All this attention is making you anxious, and you’re a little startled when Undyne suddenly moves in front of you.

“So you’re her, huh,” she says. You nod, not really sure if you’ll be able to live up to how Papyrus made you out to be. A sheepish grin appears on her face, and she steps back a bit, giving you a bit of space. 

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I get pretty worried about my friends, and jump to conclusions pretty quickly. You understand, right?” You do, and give her a shaky smile.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Yeah, I understand.” 

She just beams and claps a hand on your back, making you lurch forward from her strength. You don’t think she even means to put in that much effort, but you feel like the spot will bruise. You cough and Undyne just laughs, saying something about “besties” while you feel like you just received the pat of a lifetime. Frisk gives you a sympathetic glance, smiling awkwardly.

“But anyway!” Undyne recovers and smiles deviously, crossing her arms. “We’re gonna be cooking today!”

Papyrus cheers with Frisk, who pumps a fist in the air. Hey, this doesn’t seem too bad.

 

You have made a grave mistake.

There’s a terrible cacophony of pots and pans clashing together as Frisk stands on the counter, banging the metal together. Papyrus is aggressively stirring the pasta noodles, to the point where there’s no longer any pasta in the pot but rather that it’s all on the floor. What he’s mixing is just salty water, and even then it’s spilling over the sides. Undyne cackles as she smashes her fist into a tomato on the cutting board, then repeatedly mashes it until it’s a thick, gooey paste. To have a more “robust” flavor, she tells you.

For a moment, you just stand there and take in the scene. Half-cooked noodles are scattered across the floor, along with the salty brine it came with. It’s a miracle no one has slipped yet, judging from how much of it is on the floor. Undyne’s section of the kitchen is caked in tomato sauce, and you can see parts of it that are chunky and stick. It’s even spread to Frisk, who isn’t spared from the onslaught of tomato. The chef’s hat they wear is dotted with red, but they continue banging the pot and pan together, almost as if they don’t care at all.

Quietly, you clear your throat. They can’t hear you. You do it again, only louder this time. They still don’t hear you. You eventually resort to physically saying “Ahem,” in a clear voice and they finally turn to look at you. All eyes are on you, and you kind of regret getting their attention. But. Food is more important right now.

“Is this how you normally make spaghetti?” you ask. Slowly, you crouch to the ground and clean up the fallen noodles.

“YEAH!” Undyne booms. “It’s my recipe! Why? Got a problem with it, punk?!” She drops her fist onto another tomato and it explodes, splattering its juice everywhere. You give her a worried smile, rising back up and throwing the noodles in the trash.

“Not a problem, but more like a suggestion?”

Papyrus looks interested, as well as Undyne, and Frisk puts down their instruments. 

“Well then, what is it?” Undyne raises a brow, wiping her hands off and crossing her arms.

“Here. I’ll just show you,” you laugh and make your way to the cutting board. Papyrus quickly comes over and stands behind you, peering over your head as Frisk continues to stand on the counter. 

Thankfully, there are still a quite a few tomatoes left. Looks like Undyne spared their lives. In one quick flourish, you scrape the tomato mash off of the cutting board and place the untouched ones onto it. Then you score them and leave them on the board as you dump out the pot and refill it with water. You place the pot on the stove again, and put the tomatoes into it.

“WHY ARE YOU BOILING THE TOMATOES?”

“It’s so that the skins come off easier,” you hum in reply.

“The skins? You’re supposed to peel them??” Undyne asks, a confused look on her face. Frisk looks equally as confused, watching you chop the onions with interest.

“Yup,” you reply. You finish chopping the vegetables and wait a few minutes, then go and grab the pot of tomatoes. You ask Papyrus to prepare a bowl of cold water, which you place them into after making sure the pot has cooled down a bit. Then you dump out the water and place it on the side, getting to work peeling the tomatoes. Undyne grabs one and narrows her eyes, looking at all the loose flaps and passing it to Papyrus, who peels it with vigor. Frisk helps out, too, and eventually, Undyne decides to pick one up, too. You all manage to get the seven tomatoes done in three minutes.

Papyrus and you start working on the sauce, with you chopping up the tomatoes and Papyrus watching over the saucepan. Undyne starts the noodles again, and you explicitly tell her not to overdo it. As in, don’t stir it so much that the noodles fly out of the pot and onto the floor. She lets out a groan of frustration as she slowly stirs the water, shooting you a look.

“Why is this so _slow_?” she whines.

“It’ll taste better that way,” you respond with a smile. “Trust me.” 

“Fine,” she huffs, continuing to stir. You thank her, focusing on the saucepan and adding the onions to it. Papyrus sautes them with vigor, and you have to tell him to calm down a little or else the oil would go flying. His enthusiasm is a good boost to the atmosphere, though.

As you chop the tomatoes, you notice Frisk out of the corner of your eye. They’re lazily swinging their legs back and forth over the edge of the counter, observing everyone else. You feel a bit bad, and gently set the knife down.

“Frisk?” you call.

They look at you with a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach their eyes. Raising your hand, you beckon them over. A curious expression appears on their face, and they jump down from the counter and walk over to you, signing something. 

_Do you need something?_

“Actually, yeah!” you reply. You grab the clove of garlic sitting on the counter and the press, handing it to them along with a small dish. “I need someone to press the garlic for the sauce. Think you can do it?” 

Determination fires up in their eyes and they nod enthusiastically, making their way back to their counter and hurrying to do their job. You chuckle, turning your attention to Papyrus and Undyne. They’re engaged in a pretty lively conversation, and you’re happy to see that the both of them are stirring slowly and not at the insane speed you saw before. The last thing you need is scalding hot water and oil being shot everywhere.

You pass the chopped tomatoes to Papyrus, who quickly dumps them into the saucepan. He gently mashes and stirs the mixture, adding a bit of basil and herbs at your instruction. Frisk jumps up and gives the dish of pressed garlic to him, a satisfied grin on their face. Papyrus adds it and continues to stir for a couple more minutes, then you deem the sauce done. 

“Hey, Undyne? Where are your plates?” you ask, feeling rude if you just went and poked around her kitchen.

“Right...here!” she calls back, whipping them out and wielding them in front of her. “Heads up!” 

A plate flies at Papyrus, who catches it with ease. A cackle escapes him and he places his other hand on his hip, quirking a brow. 

“YOU WILL NEVER CATCH THE GREAT PAPYRUS OFF GUARD!” 

“Oh yeah?? Well, think fast!”

Another dish goes flying at the skeleton, but he grabs it just as easily as the first. Soon enough, Undyne is grabbing dishes faster than you can blink, and she’s throwing them all at Papyrus, who manages to catch them all without breaking a sweat. Frisk is jumping up and down on the counter like a cheerleader, and Papyrus just laughs at Undyne’s futile attempts to best him.

Thankfully, the barrage stops, and Undyne grins proudly at him. She then looks to you and points to him with a flourish, her grin getting wider.

“The perfect example of a Royal Guard!” 

Papyrus looks bashful at the praise, orange rising onto his cheekbones as he clears his throat and tries to laugh it off. 

“O-OF COURSE! I MUST BE THE BEST!” he crows.

You giggle, but your attention is drawn to Frisk tugging on your pant leg. They look at you with a frown, pointing to the stove. Your laugh dies down and your heart catches in your throat, then you quickly dive forward towards the stove. 

“Wait, guys, the sauce and noodles—”

Undyne doesn’t register your words, her smile immediately dropping as she gets into a defensive stance. Her hand stretches out to push Papyrus out of the way, only to hesitate when you rush past her and towards the saucepan. She just stares ahead, then turns to her side where Papyrus is looking at her with a confused expression.

Then her gaze falls on the boiling sauce, which you’re desperately trying to remove from the heat. The problem is the handle is too hot, most likely because it’s metal. Instead, you just shut off the heat and gently move it to a cooler part of the stove with a cloth. You had already turned off the heat for the noodles, but looking at them again shows you that they’re a bit overcooked. Frowning, you give Undyne an apologetic look.

“Sorry. I just—I wasn’t going to do anything, if that’s what you—” you struggle to find something to say, “the food.” She nods limply, standing a bit straighter. Papyrus pats your head, ruffling your hair a little.

“SEE? SHE’S VERY HEROIC!” You laugh quietly.

“Thanks, Papyrus.”

“Huh,” she says, before her sharp teeth form into a grin. “You’re different. I like that.” 

You give her an awkward smile.

Frisk looks contented. Then a look of discomfort crosses their face and they gently rub their stomach, a grumble reaching your ears. That’s right, the food! The whole reason you risked getting burned. How could you forget about it? You eyeball the saucepan, thinking that it should be cool enough to hold by now. The noodles have been well over-done by now, and all you need is a strainer and a small ladle. The plates Undyne threw at Papyrus sit neatly on the countertop, organized and categorized based on type. You really only need four. 

“Hey, Papyrus? Can you pour these out into a strainer?” you ask and gesture to the pot of noodles, to which he nods enthusiastically. He has a giddy expression on his skull at the prospect of making this new form of spaghetti, and he energetically dumps all of it out into the strainer. You make a small sound of alarm.

Undyne snickers and says, “If you’re scared of that, how are you ever gonna survive?”

“I wasn’t scared! Just startled,” you argue. She just shakes her head and points to the sauce.

“What do you need me to do with this?”

“When Papyrus is done with the noodles, do you want to put the sauce on?” 

“HECK YEAH! I’LL DROWN THEM IN SAUCE SO THE FLAVOR IS _STRONG_!” she roars, fire igniting in her eyes. You feel like you’ve made a bad choice. You’re torn from that train of thought by Papyrus calling your name.

“HUMAN,” Papyrus pipes up, turning your attention to him. “THERE’S, ERM, A PROBLEM WITH THE NOODLES?” 

“What do you mean?” you ask while making your way over to him and peering into the strainer. Undyne follows suit, looking over your shoulder.

“WELL, AS YOU CAN SEE, THEY’RE BREAKING DOWN.”

He’s right. The noodles are breaking off into smaller pieces, and there’s a mess of mismatched lengths sitting at the bottom. They were overcooked to the point where they would just fall apart from the slightest touch. Dang. You don’t even think there is enough left to start over. Sneaking a quick glance at the package, you confirm your suspicions. There isn’t any in the box at all.

“They look...weird,” Undyne mumbles, poking at one of the sad pieces with her finger. It just flops lifelessly onto another one.

“They’re overcooked,” you sigh. “I’d try to make new ones, but we’re all out.”

Papyrus hums in thought, pressing a finger to his chin. 

“THEY’RE STILL PASTA NOODLES, AREN’T THEY?” 

“I mean, yeah.” 

“WE CAN STILL EAT THEM THEN, CAN’T WE?”

He has a point. Despite falling apart and looking overall unappetizing, they’re still the same. Even though they won’t taste fantastic, and they’ll be pretty mushy and gross, you’d be able to cover up the taste using the sauce. From what you can tell, the sauce is still good. Maybe you’d be able to salvage this dish.

“Hey, Frisk?” you call. They glance your way, tilting their head. “Can you grab those plates for me?” They nod, heading over to the counter and grabbing the dishes. You smile and take them, thanking Frisk. Only to realize you’re missing something important.

“Undyne?” She looks at you. “Can you grab a spaghetti spoon?”

“Sure,” she replies, rummaging through a drawer and handing it to you. 

You then get to work doling out the noodles, placing some on each plate and adjusting to make sure they were all relatively equal. Undyne sees what you’re doing and cackles, quickly grabbing the saucepan and pouring the sauce onto the noodles. It’s just a mound of red—you can’t even see the noodles from under it. You guess that counts as a good thing?

Papyrus starts handing out forks to everyone, and you watch anxiously as they all take a bite. You can’t even bring yourself to eat what you’ve made, too worried that they wouldn’t like it or that the sauce is burnt. The silence is deafening, and it eats away at you the longer it goes on. Your skin grows hot from embarrassment, and you open your mouth to apologize when there’s a sudden explosion of noise.

“THIS IS REALLY GOOD??” Undyne says, an expression of bewilderment on her face. She tries it again and grins sharply, “I didn’t really expect that, but okay!”

“YOU MUST TEACH ME THIS RECIPE! IT’S AMAZING!!!” Papyrus cries through mouthfuls of spaghetti, holding the plate like it’s something sent from the heavens. He’s actually kneeling on the floor and raising it to the ceiling with tears falling from his eye sockets. 

Frisk doesn’t even say anything, they just keep shoveling the food into their mouth. There’s sauce splattered all around their lips and on their cheeks, but they just keep eating. In seconds, they’re done, and they present you with their empty plate. You put your own down and refill theirs, still in shock from the abrupt burst of noise.

Slowly, you take a bite of the spaghetti.

Immediately, you notice the off texture of the noodles. They’re mushy and too soft, making you cringe a little as you eat them. They kind of just disappear once you’ve chewed them enough, and you swallow them with a shudder. The sauce is too watery, and tastes too much of tomatoes and not enough of the herbs and garlic. Not to mention, it’s a bit chunky. How is this good? 

You open your mouth, but one look at their faces shuts it right away. They all have expressions of mixed joy, surprise, and happiness. Undyne is chatting with Papyrus happily as they eat, and Frisk is just listening in and slurping their noodles. They turn to you and smile, a ring of red around their lips. You giggle and they sign something, but slowly so you can understand.

_Compliments to the chef._

A soft smile appears on your face and you laugh, leaning onto the counter with your plate of spaghetti. If they like it, you don’t need to go ahead and ruin that for them. It makes you think about how they made it before you arrived today. You shake your head, taking another bite of the food. That doesn’t matter. 

As you chew, you realize that it’s not too bad. Sure, it’s not the perfect dish, but you don’t mind the taste as much anymore. Maybe it’s because you’re in the presence of really cool people, or it’s from the fact that they really like the dish. Either way, you eat it just as happily as them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i got something out  
> would you look at that  
> no but seriously, i honestly have a problem when it comes to updating in regards to a schedule.  
> often times, i don't have one, and just update whenever i manage to finish something. but i'll try and stick to a schedule now, i just need to determine which days would be best to update on.
> 
> drop by my tumblr! - https://neyrthli.tumblr.com


	5. *caring.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend some time with Frisk and meet the bovine beauty.

A loud yawn escapes your mouth, and Piper raises a brow at you. You rub your eyes to rid them of the stray tears, and Piper’s lips quirk upwards.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” she asks, leaning onto the counter. 

“No, I’m just always tired in the morning. I’d love some extra rest, though,” you respond. Raising your arms up above your head, you stretch and hear the different pops and cracks in your back. You can practically see Piper’s disturbed expression, accompanied by the quick yelp of surprise she lets out. You give her an apologetic smile as she sighs.

“Don’t do that—I’m always scared you’ll break your back or something.” 

“Piper, I’m not going to break my back from stretching,” you laugh. She flushes bright red in return, matching the color of her hair.

“W-well, still! It’s creepy!” she fires back.

“I could always crack my neck—”

“Yeah, okay, not paying attention.” Piper swiftly turns around so her back is facing you, and you stifle a laugh. She crosses her arms, straightening up. “If you die, it’s your own fault.”

“Fine, I won’t do anything,” you sigh, smiling.

“Good,” she replies, and finally faces you again. While her expression still holds hints of annoyance in it, you can see the underlying worry. It makes you feel a bit guilty, so you try to send her a reassuring smile. She notices it and relaxes, arms falling to her sides. You feel a little better about yourself.

“Say, why do you hate cracking your back and neck so much?” you ask, giving her a curious look.

Piper shudders and cringes. “It reminds me too much of breaking bones. I just hate the sound.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding. You can see how it could be disturbing, since it’s the sound of something that shouldn’t be broken being broken. To be honest, you never really associated breaking bones with cracking your neck. It was more the feeling of relief that came after a long day with a stiff neck. “It feels good, at least, if the sound isn’t nice.”

“Say that again when you break your neck,” Piper snorts and rolls her eyes. You just snicker, turning to the front doors to see if anyone would come through. Your coworker continues to talk behind you, and you hum to show her that you’re listening while watching the entrance. 

As she begins to tell you about something that happened the other day with her friends, the glass doors slowly slide open. Piper immediately stops talking and goes to pretend she’s busy, while you plaster a smile on your face and focus your attention on the person, standing up straighter.

“Welcome to—” you begin, then hesitate and squint slightly. “...Frisk?”

You instantly recognize the small child, and automatically hone in on the tears streaming down their face. They just keep flowing, and you feel worry worm its way into your heart. They sniffle, the skin on their nose red and clearly irritated. Frisk doesn’t even seem to care, and just keeps hiccuping and crying. With trembling shoulders, they slowly make their way over to your register. They don’t even get halfway before stopping mid step and wiping the tears from their face.

Quietly, you walk around the counter and over to them, kneeling down to the ground so that you’re eye level with them. You softly place your hands onto their shoulders, eyes flickering over their face. You take into account how they’ve clearly been crying for a long time.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You frown.

Their hands begin to tremble as they try to sign, but it’s so jumbled and frantic that you can’t even read it. It’s also partially due to the fact that you still weren’t fluent in the language, and happened to read very slowly. 

“Hey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” You say this in a hushed tone, as to not alarm them even further. Slowly but surely, their trembling dies down to a minimum. “What happened?” 

They quickly sign, “ _I lost her. The crowd was too big and I got lost._ ” They stare at the ground, big, fat tears seeping from their eyes. “ _I don’t know where she is._ ” They exhale shakily, turning their head up and looking at you with a pained expression. In their hands, they clutch the hem of their sweater with a death grip, harshly bunching up the fabric.

You shush them, softly rubbing their back in soothing circles. Their grip on the sweater loosens up somewhat. You can feel Piper’s gaze on your back and turn to look at her, seeing the confused and worried expression on her face. You mouth, “Sorry,” then turn your attention back to Frisk.

“Who is ‘she’?” you ask quietly, tilting your head.

“ _My mom,_ ” Frisk signs back, sniffling.

“Alright, don’t worry. I’ll help you find your mom, alright? She can’t have gone far, and I’m sure we’ll find her.” You give them a reassuring smile, and Frisk returns it with a shaky one. Your heart breaks at the distraught expression underneath, and you sigh softly. With a delicate hand, you wipe away the tears on their face. “So don’t cry, okay?” 

Frisk hiccups in response, then nods and rubs their eyes. With a grunt, you stand up and hold out your hand to them. They stare at it for a moment, then slowly places their hand in yours. It’s so small, and you keep a firm grasp on it. 

“Hey, Piper?” you call out, turning to look at her. She has her arms crossed and is staring intensely at the floor, but snaps to attention when you call her name again.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she asks, and you notice her gaze flicker back and forth between you and Frisk. 

“Can you take over for a little bit? There’s something I have to do.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.” She seems distracted, and you quirk an eyebrow at that.

“I’ll, um, try not to take too long.”

She just makes a noise of acknowledgement as you walk out of the store with Frisk in tow, and you’re confused on what had caught her attention. Nonetheless, you shake the curiosity from your head. You have a duty to attend to!

Speaking of which, you turn to Frisk outside of the store, asking, “Do you have a phone?”

They think for a moment, then nod with a guilty expression. “ _I left it at home._ ” 

While it’s not the best case scenario, it’s not the worst, either.

“That’s alright. We can just look around,” you say to no one in particular. Frisk has a hopeful look on their face.

The two of you walk onward in silence, listening to the bustle of the mid-morning traffic. People and monsters occupy the cramped space, densely packed onto the narrow sidewalk. Frisk’s grip tightens considerably on your hand, and you can feel their discomfort from being thrust into a moving crowd of people. You gently guide them into a less populated area, where they seem to relax and calm down.

You continue on the quieter street, just looking around at the shops. The bakery catches your eye, and you turn to the child next to you.

“Do you like sweets?”

For a moment, they just stare, looking as though they were caught off guard by your question. Then, a smile breaks out on their face and they retract their hand from yours to sign a reply.

“ _Definitely. I love butterscotch cinnamon pie the most—it’s mom’s specialty._ ” They jump up and down enthusiastically, making you laugh in amusement. “ _But I like a lot of things, like spider donuts and star parfaits._ ”

“Spider donuts?” you ask hesitantly. They sound like pastries shaped into spiders, or maybe donuts that have spiders and webs decorated on the top with icing. To be honest, that doesn’t sound too bad, and you find yourself licking your lips at the mere thought of the doughy goodness.

“ _Donuts made by spiders, for spiders, and of spiders,_ ” they sign cheerfully. You nearly freeze midstep, reflecting over this newly found information.

_Of spiders._

_Spider donuts are made of spiders._

You cringe at the thought, imagining yourself biting into a donut only to see tiny legs sticking out of the center. It’s terrifying, to say the least. Maybe you’d pass it off as a stray hair that got into your food, but the possibility is still there, and you’d rather avoid the risk than take it. Frisk notices your dilemma and gives you a large grin, clearly amused.

“ _Don’t worry, it’s not real spiders._ ”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“ _But don’t be surprised if you find a spider in the pastry._ ”

On second thought, don’t think you’re going to try those donuts.

Frisk just smirks wickedly and you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the sudden paranoia that spiders would be in your food. After all, the baker would make sure to check their food before serving it, right? Of course. Probably. Hopefully. Great, now you’ll be picking at your food to make sure there aren’t any unwelcome guests. You let out a small sigh.

“I like pies rather than donuts,” you hum, attempting to steer away from that train of thought. Suddenly, Frisk jumps out in front of you and faces you, stopping you in your tracks.

“ _Mom makes the best pies. They’re really yummy and always made with love._ ” They sign with large, swooping motions, making you laugh at how they nearly lose their balance a couple of times.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you reply with a hum.

“ _I’ll ask her to make one for you as a gift for helping me out,_ ” they sign back, looking extremely pleased with themself. You ruffle their hair, messing it up a little and making them giggle. 

“You don’t have to do that, y’know? I’m perfectly fine knowing you’ll find you mom,” you laugh.

“ _I’m still getting you that pie._ ” They stick out their tongue playfully and skip around on their feet, like a spontaneous dance.

“You’re pretty determined, aren’t you?” you sigh with a smile. Frisk lights up at your words, and they puff out their chest and nod, allowing you to see the small red heart stitched onto their sweater.

“ _Of course. It’s my soul trait, after all,_ ” they sign proudly. “ _It’s why I never back down. And also why I’m getting you that pie._ ” 

You let out a loud laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. “Still on the pie, I see?” you snicker. They just cross their arms in response, confirming your question. Determination, huh? If Frisk is full of determination, it makes you a little curious about what your soul is like. You understand the concept of souls and what they are, but you’ve never had the biggest interest in them. You know they’re extremely valuable and crucial to an individual, but you never really saw it as a big deal. But now your curiosity is peaked, since it’s likely there are other traits along with determination.

With a thoughtful hum, you place a hand over the center of your chest. There’s the light thrum of your heartbeat beating in your chest, but along with it, you can feel the buzz of something vibrating. It’s barely noticeable, but if you concentrate hard enough, it’s there. Frisk stares at you with a curious expression, then a look of realization washes over their face. A bright smile pulls at their lips, and they lift their hands up.

“ _You have a lot of kindness in your soul, integrity, too. It’s really pretty, like the ocean._ ” They look as though they’re in thought for a moment, then their hands begin to move again. “ _You always try to put everyone before yourself, and you make sure to give others a chance before judgement. At least, that’s what your soul tells me._ ” 

“You can see that from just one look?” you ask, a little bewildered. 

They nod, “ _It’s kind of because I was down in the Underground for so long. I guess I just got used to all the magic, so I got the ability to see souls._ ” 

“Wait, you were in the underground?”

“ _Yeah?_ ” They give you a quizzical look. “ _I helped the monsters escape from the underground._ ”

“Wait, what?” You can hear the bustle of the streets fade into the background, as your attention is solely focused on Frisk. 

“ _Yeah, I helped them escape the underground, so they made me their ambassador._ ” An amused expression appears on their face and they snicker a little at your dumbfounded expression, watching as you slowly absorb the information.

That child standing in front of you is Frisk. As in, the ambassador of monsters, Frisk. Sure, you’ve heard about them in the newspapers or online, but you never really paid too much attention to it. It was both that, and the fact that you didn’t even bother to look up a picture of them. Really, you were more disappointed in yourself than shocked because people had still been talking about them, despite it being a year after monsters came to the surface. 

Somehow, you had still managed not to even catch a whiff of the news surrounding the monster ambassador. Which is why it alarmed you so much. They’re so important to the monsters, while you’re here trying to stall time so that their mom could find them. What are you doing? They could be in danger, and you could have endangered them more by standing around here for so long!

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“ _It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal, anyway,_ ” they sign, trying to reassure you. You wear a conflicted expression on your face, then sigh, shaking your head. With a shaky smile, you hold out your hand, which they take.

“We should probably find your mom, right? We’ve been standing around here for who knows how long.”

They nod in understanding.

Silently, the two of you continue walking down the street among scattered crowds of people looking at the different shops and sights. Occasionally, you point out a cute picture in a window or some nice clothes, and Frisk agrees. They don’t say much, though, and often look around with a tight grip on your hand. Something in the way they walk screams desperation, and you decide to pick up the pace.

They follow accordingly, easily adjusting to the increase in speed. As you watch their head whip around to and fro, you realize that you have no idea what their mom looks like. It’s a mistake on your part for forgetting to ask, so you decide to amend that.

“What does your mom look like?” you begin, trailing your eyes after a brown-haired woman walking into a shop. Frisk lets go of your hand and stops walking, gently fiddling with their hands. Something like resolve sparks in their eyes and they sign, " _She’s a monster._ ”

A monster isn’t much to go off of, so you follow up with, “Does she have any distinguishing features?” They falter in their movements, seeming surprised at your lack of reaction. You guess that most people must have reacted badly, considering the aura of relief that washes over them.

“ _Well...she looks like a goat. And she wears this really pretty purple dress with a symbol on it._ ” Frisk draws an upside-down triangle in the air, then pauses. It seems like they’re at a loss of how to add more detail. It’s okay, though. That’s enough to go off of.

“ _Oh, and her name is Toriel._ ”

Toriel?

_Toriel?_

_Queen Toriel?_

Frisk nods. It appears you thought out loud without realizing it. 

Slowly, you force a smile onto your face. This is perfectly fine. You have a very important child, the child of the Queen no less, who is lost and has been looking for a good two hours now. Here you are, the bumbling fool, trying to help but to no avail. Toriel is nowhere in sight, and your anxiety spikes with every passing moment.

With a shaking hand, you hold Frisk’s and set off again, only quicker this time. Now that you have detailed information about their mom, you can actually search efficiently. 

The two of you look around every nook and cranny, every corner store and into every window that you come across. But Toriel is nowhere in sight, and you’re quickly losing hope. Suddenly, you remember your phone, and quickly turn it on. You notice a few missed messages from Sans, but that’s not your concern right now. 

“What’s Toriel’s number?” you ask, fingers poised and ready to type. Frisk goes red in the face, looking away with a guilty expression. They tap their feet on the ground, gently fumbling with their hands.

“ _...I don’t really remember,_ ” they sign, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” You place your phone back into your pocket and pull a little at your hair, biting your lip. There aren’t many options now. Either you keep on looking and walking around town, or stay in one place and hope that Toriel passes by. You’re not really one to make decisions, so you turn to Frisk to ask.

Only they aren’t there, and you’re suddenly aware of the sound of them getting farther and farther away. Quickly, you look around and the worry wells up in your soul, but gets squashed as soon as it came.

They’re running towards a bipedal goat-like monster, who wears a long, purple dress with some sort of sacred insignia stitched onto the front. The description Frisk gave you fits Toriel to a tee. There are tears in their eyes as they leap into their mom’s embrace, and you can see the water staining Toriel’s pristine fur, as well. The reunion makes your soul hum happily, and you quietly make your way over to the united duo.

“Where did you go, my child? I looked and looked, but I could not find you,” Toriel whispers and kneels, cupping their face. Frisk smiles sadly and sniffles, signing, “ _I got lost in the crowd._ ”

“I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again,” she says and kisses Frisk’s forehead. You smile softly, placing your hands behind your back.

“ _It’s okay. She,_ ” Frisk breaks midway to gesture to you, grabbing Toriel’s attention, “ _helped me a lot._ ” 

“It wasn’t a lot,” you laugh awkwardly.

“No, no! If you helped Frisk, then I am thankful.” She smiles sweetly. Softly, she takes Frisk’s hand in her own, and you notice how her paw engulfs the child’s own. 

“My name is Toriel, and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she bows regally, and you stumble over your own feet trying to return it.

You introduce yourself and bow awkwardly, feeling a bit intimidated by the royal aura she has. Suddenly, she blinks, and there’s a hint of recognition in her eyes. Her attitude towards you seems warmer, almost, and she hums happily. 

“Frisk has told me a bit about you, as well as Papyrus. He seems particularly fond of you,” she giggles.

“O-oh, really?” you say, feeling a bit flattered. 

“Yes,” she replies, “I heard you taught him a brand-new way to make his favorite dish.” There’s a hint of fondness in her tone, and it reminds you a bit of how a mother would address her child. You think about it, and see how much Toriel reminds you of a mother. There’s an openness to her that makes you want to hug her and tell her about your day, but there is also the authoritative figure she resembles.

“It was my pleasure!” you beam, flushing a bit. “I’m not the best cook, but if it helps people get better at the things they like to do, then I’m glad to do it!” Toriel smiles.

“Thank you, my child,” she says, and gently bows her head. Suddenly, you feel as though she’s giving you a little too much credit, and stammer out a response. 

Frisk just grins at your embarrassment and signs for your phone, which you give to them curiously. They punch in a few things and hand it back to you, and you see two new contacts. One is labeled “Frisk” and the other “Toriel.” 

“Thanks.” You smile at Frisk, who gives you a thumbs up in return.

As you stand there, you suddenly remember Piper, who is waiting for you at the pet store. You take a look at the time and gulp, sweating slightly. It’s been two hours since you left, and you’d probably have to get going soon. You don’t really want to leave since Toriel is so friendly, but your job calls, and you don’t want to deal with a cranky Piper for the rest of your shift. You turn to the goat monster, giving her a sad smile.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to get going,” you say quietly, biting your lip.

“I understand,” she sighs, “but it was a pleasure to meet you. I do hope we see each other again.” You hum in agreement, a brighter expression on your face. 

“Me too. But so far, it’s been a pretty small world,” you joke.

“That’s true,” she chuckles. “Monsters tend to stick to one place, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw one various times in a day.” 

Frisk tugs at her dress, and Toriel gives you an apologetic smile.

“I’ll see you around?” you ask.

“Of course. Have a nice day, dear!” she calls as she’s walking away. You wave energetically, then stick your hands in your pockets and stare after them. Hesitantly, you take out your phone and open your contacts, scrolling until you find what you’re looking for. 

You know that there’s no point in calling her, but you can’t really help but humor the thought. She would have loved to hear about this, especially since she was always fascinated with the rumors and legends that surrounded the mountain. If only she could see you now, surrounded by all sorts of characters. Either she would have been jealous of you, or happy for you. Considering her, it was the latter. With a sad smile, you hang your head.

Your thumb hovers over CALL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so from now on, i'll be updating on thursdays! so now, you don't need to worry about when a chapter will come out, because more often than not, i'll at least stick to the schedule! 
> 
> drop by my tumblr! - https://neyrthli.tumblr.com


	6. *curiosity.

You had put it off for most of the day, and had only pressed CALL once you were in the comfort of your home. As you raise it to your ear, you can already hear the tell-tale dial tone, as well as the ever-present, “Hi! I’m not at the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll be back soon!” Her voice sounds as lively as it did five years ago. It’s the last piece you have left of her, and you’re thankful she at least left this before she left. Clearing your throat, you cough.

“Hey,” you say, “today’s been a crazy day.”

There’s no response, only the continuous drone of static from the other side of the line. Your grip tightens, unoccupied hand forming into fist and digging your nails into your palm. You don’t know why you do this. You don’t know why it brings you such comfort even though you feel like you’re going to die everytime you call _her_.

It hurts, and it feels like you’ll snap in half when you continue talking and there’s no reply. Not even a comment, nor the sound of a whisper. It’s just silence that invades your ears, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and will for it to settle down. At least enough for you to gather your thoughts, and continue to talk to the phantom number.

You wonder if it’s therapeutic to do this. Maybe it’s the small, fleeting hope in your chest that wishes for her to be alive—that she’s just away from the phone and soon she’ll see all your messages over the past five years, then scold you for clogging up her voicemail. You just want to hear her again. Just a simple, “hey,” would do. It would be enough for your heart to be at rest. 

“I met the Queen of Monsters today. It was pretty neat.” Your lips gently quirk up into a smile at remembering the sweet monster. “I also helped out a kid find their parents. Guess who the parent was?” A snicker escapes your lips, but your smile falters. At the lack of a response, tt gradually turns into a frown. You sigh, and stare at the floor.

“...I mis—”

“I'm sorry, but there is no more room left for this message.”

There's a soft dial tone as the call ends, and you stand there staring at her contact screen.

The dull ache in your chest grows.

 

You’ve been staring at the blank tv for a good half-hour now, too lost in your thoughts to realize you’re wasting time. With an abrupt turn of the head, you momentarily forget where you are and spend a second in dazed confusion. Then it all comes back and you flush heavily, muttering to yourself and getting up. You stumble a little and huff, gradually regaining your balance. 

As you head to your kitchen, your phone begins to ring. 

You’re completely frozen, mind racing with all sorts of impossible ideas. The hope in your chest grows more and more, and you slowly head to the couch. It’s still blaring loud in your ears, and you quickly snatch it up and answer with a hasty, “Hello?”

“HEY, NERD!” Undyne’s voice greets you from the other side of the phone and the hope in your chest dies down. You feel bad for being disappointed, and do your best to mask it.

“Undyne? How'd you get my number?”

“From Sans, duh. But that's not important! There's a problem that needs to be fixed!”

“Problem? What problem?”

“You’re not here for ANIME NIGHT!” she booms, making you jump a bit in alarm and nearly drop your phone. Recovering quickly, you stammer out a response.

“Anime night? What’s that?”

“Only the BEST thing in the world!” She’s clearly enthusiastic about tonight, and for a moment, you’re a little terrified of its “festivities.”

“Well, what do you do?” you ask, taking a seat onto the couch.

“We watch anime, duh.” You can practically hear her roll her eyes. “But basically, it’s just a night to spend time with friends and enjoy some good tv.”

“Wait, you’re inviting me?” There’s a silence that passes between you, and you faintly hear someone cough in the background. It sounds suspiciously like Papyrus.

“Uh, yeah? What’d you think I was doing? Calling you to tell you about this awesome night, but not inviting you?” she clicks her tongue. “I’m not _that_ rude.” 

Immediately, red flags go off in your head and apologies burst from your mouth, making you stumble over your words and ramble. You’re only cut off by Undyne’s boisterous laugh snapping you out of your panic, making you take a deep breath and listen.

“Dude, it’s fine. I know you weren’t trying to insinuate anything,” Undyne says reassuringly, a softer tone entering her voice. “Besides, why would I call you if I wasn’t inviting you?”

“That’s true…” you reply quietly, still a bit hesitant.

“Do you want to come? The whole gang’s here. We’ve got Sans, Papyrus, my cute girlfriend—”

You giggle a bit from affectionate way she refers to her girlfriend. It’s sweet.

“—and Frisk,” she finishes. 

You think for a moment, staying quiet in thought. It does sound appealing, not to mention most of them would be monsters you already know. The only one you aren’t familiar with is Undyne’s girlfriend, who you barely know anything about. But from what Undyne has said about her, you think that the two of you will get along fine. Hopefully. 

“I…” you start, and begin to look around your empty living room. It's cold and lonely, dull without a hint of life laden in its appearance. “I would really like that.” You smile softly.

“HELL YEAH!” Undyne yells through the phone, making you wince but laugh all the same. “SHE'S COMING, YOU GUYS!” she yells again, but luckily it sounds like she's placed the phone a bit farther away. 

“Should I wear anything specific? Like casual or…” you trail off, already worrying about how you'd dress.

“Psh, nah. Just come in your jammies,” she responds. “We want comfort over style.”

You smile, and she continues, “Besides, who said I couldn't rock a set of premium Mew Mew Kissy Cutie PJ's???” 

“I'm sure you'll look great, Undyne.”

“Hell yeah, I will. Anyways, swing by around 6 and we should have everything ready to go!”

“Got it, text me the address and I'll see you later?”

“See ya, nerd!” 

She hangs up, and not a second later she's texted you the address in all caps. She must really be excited. Then again, you haven't really even known her that long and you could already tell she’s a passionate person with everything she does. It’s admirable. Almost...nostalgic.

You try not to think about it and instead focus on anime night, deciding to pick out a comfortable sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants to match. It was going to be cold, and you had no interest in freezing to death while trying to hang out with your friends. As you get dressed, you glance at the clock and see it's 2 pm. You still have time to kill, and decide to mess around the house until it was an appropriate time to leave.

It's around 5:30 when you decide to leave, and you make your way to the address Undyne gave you. It's a little ways away, maybe close to 20 minutes at most, and you spend most of the time listening to whatever was on the radio. A new hyped-up pop song on replay, or maybe an old one you can't help but bob your head to and sing along with. This continues until you arrive at your destination, and you pause for a minute to finish singing a song, then shut your car off and get out. 

You continue to hum all the way up to the front door and ring the doorbell, continuing to sway your body to the residual beat.

“heya,” Sans greets you from his spot in the doorway, and you immediately freeze and begin to flush.

“Hey!” you say rather loudly, and end up cringing a little on the inside from how it sounds. “How have things been?”

“oh, you know. same old, same old,” he responds, and opens the door a little wider so you can get in. “say, before i forget; knock knock.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile appears all the same. “Who's there?”

“ach.”

“I already know where this is going, Sans.” You muster up the best unimpressed look you have and stare at him. He just shuts the door with the continuous grin on his face, and you sigh with a smile, defeated.

“Ach who?”

“bless you,” he says and releases a chuff of laughter. 

“That. Was bad,” you try to cover up your giggle but it escapes regardless.

“it made ya laugh,” he retorts and winks. You just shake your head and turn away from him, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up.

The two of you head over to the living room where everyone else has already made themselves comfortable. Undyne and her girlfriend are sharing a loveseat, Papyrus and Frisk are seated on the floor in front of the couch with a blanket, and the only open spots left are on the couch. Sans takes the side behind Papyrus while you sit behind Frisk, who grins excitedly up at you. 

“HUMAN! IT FINALLY TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH! I CAN BARELY KEEP MY EXCITEMENT FROM SPILLING OUT OF MY BONES!” Papyrus looks positively radiant, and you can’t help but beam at him. There’s literal sparkles in his eye sockets. “UNDYNE SAID THIS ANIME WOULD BE ACTION-PACKED AND FILLED WITH PLENTY OF TENSE MOMENTS! WHICH I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM AN AVID FANATIC OF!” 

Frisk giggles and signs, “ _It’s even got super cool cat-girls wielding swords and fighting evil guys!_ ”

“yeah, fur real. but i also heard it was a real cat-astrophe,” Sans winks, and gets a collective groan from the room while you and Frisk share a look and laugh. 

“Can we NOT have the night ruined by your horrible puns???” Undyne glares from her place on the loveseat, and you fight back a laugh at her exasperated expression. Actually, you haven’t even introduced yourself to her girlfriend! You didn’t want to come off as rude—that wouldn’t make a good first impression.

Fixing your gaze on the reptilian monster next to her, you smile and say, “Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.” You tell her your name and she seems to jump from your abrupt introduction, then calm down and look at you a bit more clearly. 

“M-My name is A-Alphys,” she chokes out. Alphys slowly lifts a hand and waves it, movements stuttering and almost robotic. You see her lips move but don't hear her voice, and your confusion must show because she clears her throat.

“I-it's nice t-to m-m-meet you,” she repeats. But she seems so anxious and nervous that you try to give her the best reassuring smile you can to make her feel a bit better. You wanted her to know that you weren't going to be mean or rude to her, just wanted to be a friend. 

“Nice to meet you, too, Alphys,” you respond, and she visibly relaxes. Undyne beams at you and you smile back, turning your gaze away from them and to Papyrus who's softly tutting at his brother. It looks like he’s scolding him for sleeping? How did he fall asleep in such a short amount of time? Sans peeks open an eye socket to look at his brother, an easy grin on his face. Or maybe he was just pretending to sleep. You’d never know.

“ALRIGHT, PUNKS! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!!” Undyne shouts and presses the play button on the remote, allowing the TV to light up in brilliant neon colors.

It kind of hurts your eyes, so you’re not paying attention to most of it. You wanted to come out of this with undamaged eyes, thank you very much.

The anime starts off with a loud and peppy opening song that has you bobbing your head to the beat. Alphys seems to know it by heart, since you see her mouthing the lyrics and getting them spot on every time. Undyne stares down at her and an expression of pure love is echoed in her face, and something about it makes your heart feel fuzzy and warm. Or would that be your soul?

The current episode you’re on has something to do with beach balls and a trip to the beach, so you don’t pay too much attention to it. It feels like some cliche filler that would just dish out fanservice of cat-girls in bikinis with huge breasts. And your prediction is spot on. That’s exactly what it is. There’s not really any sort of importance to the chapter; it’s just a way of getting the plot to slow down for a minute and for the characters to enjoy themselves. That’s all. 

You find yourself growing disinterested and scan the room, gauging everyone else’s reactions. Alphys is completely absorbed in it, as are Frisk and Papyrus, who seem excited by the prospect of going to beach and playing volleyball or splashing around in the sea. Undyne seems more focused on watching her girlfriend more than watching the show, and you can practically see Alphys’ blush over the glow of the TV. On the other hand…

You turn your attention to Sans, who has dozed off and slumps against the backrest of the couch. Now that you look at him, he’s only an inch or two taller than you. Then again, he’s slumped over, so that could easily extend to three or four inches instead. His face is completely relaxed, and you find a strong urge to touch it. The question still lingers on your mind. How was he able to emote at all if he was bone? Unless it was a malleable sort of bone, but you’ve never really heard of such a thing. Maybe it was more like a clay that had already dried somewhat, but still was able to be formed into a shape?

Glancing around at the others, you find that none of them are paying attention. They’re too enraptured with the episode to pay attention to you and what you’re about to do. You glance at the screen and see the main villain arrive on a boat to the beach the main characters are on. Still not interesting to you. You turn your head towards Sans, scanning over his skull and waiting to see if he would wake up at all. He doesn’t. 

You kind of feel like this is a bad idea. After all, you’d be invading someone’s private space. And for what? To satiate some of your unbridled curiosity? You begin to talk yourself out of it, but…

You really do kind of want to experience the feeling of bone on your skin. Would it be cold? Warm? Hard? Soft? With all of these possibilities come separate answers, and you briefly spend a moment wondering if you’ll regret what you’re going to do next. You find that you don't really think you’ll regret it.

_Well. It’s now or never, I suppose._

Slowly, you reach out and gently cup his cheekbone. It’s not rough like sandpaper, but smooth. The bone hums with magic under your hand, and you spend a moment marveling at the feeling. Softly, you gently trace his features. There are small nicks and cracks in the bone, along with miniscule depressions that you wouldn’t really notice unless you looked carefully. As you reach the corner of his mouth, you gently push. It gives, but only slightly. Then there’s a sudden twitch and that’s the only warning you have before Sans seems to startle himself awake, choking on a snore.

You immediately draw back as if you’d been burned, looking anywhere else but him. You feel his gaze on you, searching, but he ultimately drops it in favor of going back to sleep. The others are still preoccupied with the show. The current episode fades out and a new one begins to play, the janky opening blaring from the speakers. 

But you can’t seem to focus. Not when you realize, with a sort of delayed realization, how much you enjoyed the feeling of his bones under your fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back...binches...a whole almost-year since updating this story,,,
> 
> (with the release of deltarune i really couldn't help myself. the undertale fandom is reviving itself with this new content...!)


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